‘I saw them.’ Izzy lifts her phone in front of Grace’s eyes. Her movement is swift, there isn’t time to look away. The image is startlingly clear; Izzy has been bought the best kind of phone available. The photo was taken above and from the side, but the shape of her husband’s naked back and shoulders is unmistakable; his head is turned sideways, revealing the familiar profile of his nose. Eve is beneath him, instantly recognizable as well, although her eyes are closed; they are lying on the carpet.

‘… thought you have the right to know the truth.’ Izzy’s voice has become softer and sweeter. She turns to go. Along with the sympathy there is a gleam of triumph in her eyes. She runs down the stairs, crosses the hall, opens the kitchen door and disappears inside.

Grace’s mind fills with boiling hurt and anger, she can hardly move; a message pings through from Izzy with another image, a different one this time, a different angle: Eve and Martin are facing each other in close-up, clearly blind to the child who must have been crouching nearby, her phone on silent. Fury crescendoes. Grace begins to ascend the stairs, shouting for Martin; she doesn’t want to surprise him in bed with Eve. Martin comes out from Eve’s room as she reaches the final flight.

‘Shh.’ Martin hurries down the stairs to join her. ‘She’s asleep.’

‘You fucking shit.’ She slams her phone against his chest. Martin staggers back against the bannisters, his hands automatically clasping the phone. ‘Look at the screen,’ she hisses.

He regains his balance and stares at the image. His face pales then flushes a dull red; for a moment she is disarmed. He looks like Blake does when she catches him at the biscuit tin, wondering if it’s too late to lie.

‘How the hell—’

‘Izzy.’

‘Jesus.’ He hands back the phone, his hand shaking. ‘Why would she do that?’

‘God knows. Who cares? The important thing is that I know you’re a cheating, lying bastard—’

‘We can’t do this now; the children will hear.’

‘How dare you bring the children into it,’ she whispers hoarsely, ‘when they must have heard you screwing Eve for months.’

‘Supper time!’ Melly calls from the kitchen.

‘If it’s any help, Gracie, it’s been over for weeks.’

Gracie. Evie. Why does he do that with their names? Does it make them sound younger or sweeter, less threatening? Let him be threatened.

‘Do you actually think I’d believe anything you say?’

‘We have to go down now; we’ll talk about this later.’ He walks ahead stiffly, his face crimson. She follows him across the hall and into the kitchen, trying to breathe slowly and calmly.