Madison had started crying. ‘I’m sorry,’ she sobbed. ‘I didn’t mean to be not nice.’

‘It’s all right,’ I soothed, leaning over her, aware of David’s eyes on me. ‘You were very good. Now look, you love prawns, or shrimp, I mean – try some of these. I shelled them myself.’

Madison nodded, her face quivering and her chest heaving under her polyester dress. She smelled of sweat already, at her age. She speared a prawn on her fork, but just looked at it.

Ruth was happily tearing into a dinner roll, as if unaware of how crushing she’d been. ‘It’s a lot of food, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘I hope we can eat it all. I do hate waste, what with children starving in Africa.’

I forked up some salad and put it into my mouth, but it tasted like dust. I made myself swallow. Someone should go after Abby – and it should be her husband. She wouldn’t welcome interference from me, her underling, who had witnessed her shame. But David didn’t move. Instead, he poured himself a large glass from the bottle of wine, and sat back to drink it. We ate in silence for a few minutes, and then I heard a faint noise, like a very small trickle. A smell I knew well from my early-morning washing sessions. Ruth caught it too, her nose wrinkled. ‘What is that?’

Madison was red-faced, crying softly into her prawns. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.’

I looked down – the crotch of her dress was damp. Oh God.

‘Oh my gosh!’ Ruth jumped up with a noise of disgust, as if a spider had crawled over her foot. ‘There’s a puddle of it! For goodness’ sake.’

I was hustling Madison out of her seat, which was also puddled. ‘Come on, let’s go to the bathroom, sweetheart. It’s all right.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she sobbed. ‘I’m sorry!’

As I led her indoors to the chilly interior of the house, I heard Ruth say to her brother, ‘It’s not right at her age. It’s disgusting. If I were you I’d get her professionally looked at.’

I put Madison to bed, knowing better than to knock on Abby’s door. She would be in a drug-induced stupor by now. Madison was still crying, softly, desperately, into her pillow.

‘It’s all right,’ I said, soothing her as best I could, knowing what I said was a lie. ‘Aunt Ruth loved your song, she said so just now. Mommy won’t be angry with you.’

It wasn’t all right. Far from it. Mommy would indeed be angry. And in truth Auntie Ruth had hated Madison’s performance and really didn’t seem to like her.