‘We need to talk,’ he says, his head cocked at a just-too-slightly-condescending angle. It’s enough to snap her to her senses.

‘What’s there to talk about? About how you’ve been sleeping with one of my best friends for three years?’

‘It’s not three … I …’ he stumbles, taken aback that the frame matters. ‘I meant to stop it. Honestly, I did. But Helen … she was just there and so willing and I … well, I was weak, babes. I know that. I can see that. And I didn’t mean to hurt you. It didn’t mean anything. Honestly, you’ve got to believe me.’

‘I don’t believe you.’ Because she doesn’t. She can see it in his face. He’s lying. How dare he act as if he’s been repeatedly lured away by some wicked sex siren against his will. It’s pathetic.

She starts to walk past him.

‘Maddy.’ He grabs her arm and she freezes, staring down at his wedding ring. After a fraught moment he lets her go. Her heart hammers so hard in her chest, she feels sick. She moves towards the front door and opens it. ‘When will you be back? We’re supposed to be in lockdown. You’re not supposed to be travelling anywhere unless it’s essential.’

She doesn’t answer him, although she’s tempted to snap that this is an emergency; that she does have the right to travel. Because it is absolutely essential that she gets away from him.

‘Maddy,’ he calls. ‘Maddy, come on. Be reasonable. At least tell me where you’re going. You owe me that.’

‘If you must know, I’m going to find Jamie,’ she manages.

Trent lets out a snort of derision as he calls after her, ‘Well, good luck with that. Isn’t it a bit late to play mother of the year?’

8

The Family Zoom

Tor can’t wait to get in the sea and puts a shout-out to the Sea-Gals mid week. It’s been a trying few days. Lotte has been embracing her time off with relish, in the way that only Lotte can. Because the hair salon is closed, she’s been home hairdressing and has embarked on an elaborate tattoo for their housemate, Declan, inconveniently setting up her make-shift studio in the kitchen. There’s been a constant stream of friends coming and going to the house, drinking and getting stoned in the garden. Tor has been trying to instigate the lockdown rules, but Lotte doesn’t seem to think that they apply to her. It annoys Tor that their house and their life seems to be so public. They’ve barely had five minutes alone together, but Lotte loves all the attention, holding court, always teetering on the edge of any gathering becoming a party.

It’s a relief to get in the sea and have a break from it all. The tide’s in and the water is a deep navy-blue in the winter sunshine, the sky a watercolourist’s blue. Tor kicks furiously, her gloves raking through the water as she gets her shoulders under, blowing out a shocked sigh as the cold hits. Her skin stings, like the sunburn she had when she first got to Africa. She’s glad of her woolly hat.