‘I don’t know what you think I did, but it sounds like something to discuss when you’re sober.’

‘You condescending fuck.’ More banging. ‘Maybe we need to get the guards involved. How would you like that?’

Through the doorway, Mary could see Robbie shaking his head.

‘You’re drunk, go home. We have guests and you’re making a fool of yourself.’

‘Oh, you have guests, do you. Maybe your guests would like to know you got my daughter pregnant, would they? Would your high-and-mighty wife like to know that?’

Mary felt the room tip. Della put a hand on her arm. The Stedmans exchanged a look that was part horror, part Schadenfreude. Ruth Cavanagh, still standing behind her chair, pursed her lips.

Robbie, to his credit, remained calm.

‘Eddie, I don’t know where you got that idea, but—’

‘I’ll tell you where I got it. Gavin Bowman,’ Eddie shouted. ‘And if anyone’s sniffing around your house often enough to spot what’s going on, it’s Gavin Bowman. So open the fucking door and tell me what you’re going to do about this baby!’

Della got up now and quietly closed the dining room door, immediately muffling Eddie’s shouts.

‘That man would want to lay off the drink,’ she said loyally, patting Mary’s arm. The Stedmans nodded vigorously.

‘I believe he’s quick with his fists,’ Susie said. ‘Robbie’s absolutely right not to open that door.’

From upstairs came the sound of a small voice calling. Lily.

Mary pushed back her chair, feeling a weakness in her legs as she stood.

‘Yes. Leave him on the doorstep to cool off,’ Tom agreed. ‘He’ll slink away when he gets no reaction.’

Della looked sceptical and Tom caught it.

‘You don’t think so?’

‘I think,’ Della said heavily, ‘if he really believes, incorrectly, of course’ – she patted Mary’s arm – ‘that Zara is pregnant and Robbie’s the father, he won’t leave it at this. He’ll be back.’

Fran couldn’t sleep. Poor Zara, bloody hell, a baby. At seventeen. The end of Zara’s everything. And the end of Fran’s summer in the States. A minor but not inconsiderable detail. She tossed in the narrow bed, wishing the sheet was cooler. At half twelve, she gave in and got up to get a glass of water, and to cool her feet on the kitchen floor. The house was quiet, everyone asleep. That’s what made the sudden noise all the more shocking. A banging on the front door. She froze. Should she answer? It took another moment to realize it was too far away. It wasn’t her front door. It was the Murphys’. Shouting, then. Zara’s dad, roaring for Robbie to come out and face him. Oh God. Should she wake Della? Go out and get Zara’s mother? Call the police? Eddie’d clearly been drinking for hours and God knows what he’d do. She slipped into the downstairs bathroom and cracked the window. The banging subsided, but started again. Then another sound. The sound of Lily crying.