Grace and Melly come over most days, taking it in turns to cook. Charley and Blake and Izzy keep the girls company after school, returning to their homes after supper. Eve told her friends she would understand if they didn’t want their kids visiting the house, considering what had happened. Melly hugged her and said nothing would stop them coming over, Grace said the same.

Eric sits by the bed in the evenings, his head lowered, saying nothing. A tide of blame swells silently between them: he should have made a solid gate with no gap at the bottom; he ought to have drained the pond and diverted the spring. She shouldn’t have held a party mid-week or got drunk. The swell rises higher but if she accuses him he’ll accuse her back. They can’t afford that now, not yet.

Martin tiptoes in when no one is about, and places something down on the bedside table which makes a tiny metallic noise. She turns to look; her ring, her lost ruby ring.

‘I found this in our bed at home, after our last afternoon together,’ he whispers. ‘Sorry. It must have got swept up in my clothes after all. I brought it over to give it back the night of the party, but I couldn’t get you on your own; then, well, with everything that happened I clean forgot.’ He shakes his head. ‘You must have been so worried. I’m sorry.’

She’d forgotten all about the ring; it had been lost, she remembers now, she’d been so anxious, panicked even. That worry seems part of a distant dream that’s faded to nothing. She stares up at him silently; he could be a stranger. If she feels anything for him now, it’s to wonder how she could have felt so much and then, nothing at all.

Sorrel comes into the room later and climbs on to the bed. Eve holds her daughter very close; the warm little body is comforting.

‘I’m scared.’

‘Don’t be, darling. We’ve made everything safe now.’

‘Ash couldn’t breathe.’ She is sobbing.

‘I know.’

‘He couldn’t take a breath. He was trying to …’

‘Don’t think about it, sweetheart.’ Eve touches Sorrel’s wet cheek. ‘Think about the happy times. We had so many lovely times with him.’ She gasps between her words as if surfacing for air, but Sorrel cries harder; she tries to talk through her tears but then Izzy is there. It’s a Sunday, she’s been here since the morning.

‘Let your mummy sleep.’ She holds out her hand. ‘We need you for the game, Sorrel.’

‘Game?’ Eve echoes dully.

‘In the woods, fresh air. Come on, Sorrel.’

‘Go on, darling, it’ll help you feel better,’ Eve tells her.