I washed my hands thoroughly. I seemed to have done nothing but scrub urine off my hands in the last few weeks. Madison needed rubber sheets, and maybe Ruth’s suggestion of seeing a doctor wasn’t bad. Wetting the bed, I knew from my child development course at college, was not a good sign at Madison’s age. Again, I wished I had paid more attention instead of doing my make-up in class and thinking about the hot boys in the next-door CDT class, who’d drop out within months to become mechanics or builders.

Downstairs, when I returned, David sat alone among the barely touched food. I would have to clear everything up, I supposed. It seemed to be normal now that I would do all the housework as well as childcare. I hadn’t been hired to do that. Marietta would come in the morning, but she’d huff and puff about the mess, and Abby would expect it to be clean when she got up.

‘Hey,’ I said to David. ‘She’s all right,’ I added, even though he hadn’t asked about Madison and I wasn’t sure it was true.

David just nodded. I noticed the bottle of wine was almost empty.

‘Is it meant to be this hard?’ he said after a while. His tone was confidential, one adult to another, which I wasn’t used to.

‘What? Kids?’

‘Kids, marriage, the whole thing. Family. Ruth’s a nightmare, she always was. I don’t know why I even try.’

I sat down next to him. It was after six now. The light was fading already, the cold of the desert taking hold. ‘Families are tough,’ I said. ‘It’s just me and my mum and even that’s a struggle sometimes.’

David rummaged in his pocket, and slapped something on to the table – a lighter and a packet of cigarettes. I was surprised; I had seen Abby smoking many times on the terrace, trying to keep her weight down, but not him. ‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ I said.

‘I quit. I might start again.’ He lit one, sucking it in with closed eyes. ‘Want one?’

I didn’t smoke – I’d seen how it had aged Jenna’s skin – although I’d bum the odd one back home on nights out. ‘Sure,’ I said nonchalantly. He passed me one and I put it in my mouth. It would have been the ideal moment to lean over, get him to light it between my lips, but instead I held out my hand for the lighter and did it myself. I felt somehow ashamed of my behaviour, my skimpy clothes and cheap make-up.

He looked at me. ‘I know so little about you, Casey, yet here you are, raising my kids, cleaning up our messes. Literally. You know everything about us.’