“In the family room.” Tamsin gestures to a door half open, and she sees them, their son Jack, their daughter Milly, faces stunned and immobile in the blue TV light. “Hey! You should come, next year. We should all go together. We could bring Alice too, a big family holiday—she’s amazing with the kids. Wait—or Dubai. Christmas!” She claps her hands together. “Mark! Tell them. Tell them they should come to Dubai.”

“You should come to Dubai,” says Mark, with an indulgent smile to his wife. “We go every year. I do a bit of work, then we have a week at Atlantis. You seen it?”

Mark brings up pictures on his phone and they all crowd around. Cate sees a huge pink stone edifice, a strip of sand, the ocean beyond. “It’s a man-made island,” he says. “They’ve got everything—Gordon Ramsay restaurants. An aqua park. The kids go mental for it.”

It looks terribly fragile, its hugeness, its hubris. “Atlantis?” says Cate.

“Yeah.” Mark nods. “Check it out.”

“Didn’t Atlantis disappear in the flood?”

“Which flood?” Tamsin looks bewildered.

“The Bible.”

“Thanks,” says Sam hastily. “But I don’t think we can get away this year—maybe next time.”

Cate looks over to where Tom lies. He looks tiny there, vulnerable, a small craft floating on a sea of polished oak. He is so still.

“Excuse me.” She stands up quickly, goes to him, puts her hand to his nose, feels the soft relief of his breath. Outside, beyond the glass doors, the hillside is turning russet in the last of the light. The lawn is mown to within a millimeter of its life.

Tamsin comes over and joins her. “Gorgeous, aren’t they, when they’re asleep?” Her face, dusted with a light pink powder, shimmers in the overhead lights. “So how’s the house?” she says.

“Oh.” Cate shifts a little. “It’s good—it’s great. We’re so grateful.”

“When are you going to invite us round?”

“Soon. When we’ve unpacked.”

“You’re kidding?” Tamsin laughs. “You haven’t unpacked yet?”

“Still a few boxes left to go.”

Tamsin’s hand lands on her sleeve. “You look tired,” she says. “Sam says you’re sleeping together?” Her voice drops to a whisper. “You and Tom? In the same bed?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“It’s just easier like that. For the night feeds. You know.”

“You should stop.” Tamsin is gripping her now. “Get that baby off the boob. You know what? You should have some time off. One day a week. What do you say?”

“I—”

“Say yes! Alice will do it. She’s desperate to spend some time with Tom. Hang on—Sam!” Tamsin turns to the men, clapping her hands. “Sam! Cate’s going to have a day off! We’ll arrange it. Me and Mum. Alice is dying to help.”