How full of dreams she’d been back then, she thinks. How excited about the home she was creating.

And this is her home, she remembers. Her self-inflicted exile has only made her see what a huge achievement and asset it is. Maybe now she’s clearer about her feelings for Trent, they can come to some kind of arrangement about the future of the house. As Helga told her yesterday when then all met for a late-afternoon swim, Trent was the one who did the dirty and so it stands to reason that he should be the one to move out. Maddy appreciated the wise counsel of her swimming friends. Once she’s found Jamie and brought him home, she’s going to miss them.

She thinks about going to the front door, but having not seen Trent for months, it feels too invasive to open it with her keys, so she goes instead to the side gate, like she always does when she comes back with the shopping. As she pushes through it, she notices that the small box hedges have yellow patches, and the grass is weedy and overgrown. Trent clearly hasn’t been doing much upkeep.

She sees him through the glass of the back door. He’s sitting at the kitchen counter, the reading glasses that he hates being seen in perched on the end of his nose. He stares down at a sheaf of papers. From outside, she notices that his face is more drawn and lined than she’s realised before. She slides open the door, surprising him. He snatches off his glasses and stands up.

‘You came,’ he says, as if he hadn’t believed she would.

The kitchen is unkempt, although it’s passably clean. He’s swept the white floor tiles, although leaving the mound of dust in the corner. One of his more annoying habits.

‘You said you wanted to talk, so I’m here,’ she says, walking towards him and standing against the end counter, placing her handbag on it.

Do they kiss on both cheeks politely like strangers? she wonders, but Trent doesn’t move and the awkward moment passes.

‘You look well,’ he says, as if this is a surprise. ‘Glowing.’

‘The sea air, I guess. And I’ve been swimming.’

‘In the sea?’

‘Yes.’

‘Alone?’ He sounds horrified.

‘No, I go with friends.’

‘What friends?’

The Sea-Gals have become friends, she realises, at the same time as she realises that she could never introduce them to Trent. He’s always striven to have friends who are the most similar he can find. Or, even better, ones he feels are similar and yet slightly aspirational. Maddy has found it a breath of fresh air to meet people with utterly different lives and backgrounds to her.

She tells him a few facts about her life in Brighton and he listens, as if he can’t quite believe she’s not been at home. He doesn’t ask about Jamie. His lack of curiosity speaks volumes of how much he doesn’t care.

Trent faffs around putting a Nespresso Pod in their expensive machine, although he hasn’t asked if she wants a coffee. He curses when the pod jams and she points out that he needs to empty the cartridge holder. Another thing she’s always done. She wonders how he’s coped without her and feels a frisson of satisfaction that he must realise now how much hard work it’s taken to live somewhere that looks this good.