Melissa’s glance flicks between them as she puts a casserole on the table and takes off her apron. ‘Sit down,’ she says cheerfully, though her cheeks flame; so she knew, or at least suspected. The betrayal stings.

‘I hope you’re hungry,’ Melissa adds, smiling. ‘I’ve cooked a lot.’

Eric has emerged and takes his place at the table, yawning. ‘Sorry, I nodded off in my study.’

‘That’s fine. We all went to sleep, even the children,’ Melissa tells him. ‘I think everyone needed it. I know I did.’

‘I’ve been out of it for at least a couple of hours,’ Eric replies, rubbing his face.

You’ve been out of it for longer than that, Grace wants to tell him; otherwise Martin wouldn’t be fucking your wife in your house, under your nose. She can’t say this, though, or anything like it; Eric is holding on to sanity by a thread. Their eyes meet, he smiles a brief, unhappy smile. Does he know? She looks at the lines on his face and the way his mouth turns down; his wife’s affair could seem unimportant compared to the loss of his son. He might have decided to wait and see what’s left when that loss is more tolerable. Eric is wise and patient. Wiser than she is, far more patient. She returns the smile with an effort and sits down next to him. She passes him the wine. The children file into the kitchen and take their places.

‘We’ll start without Paul,’ Melly says. Grace glances at her, a new Melly, more decisive. At that moment the door opens and Paul comes in, sleet sticking to his hair. He takes off his coat and gloves.

‘Smells good. It turns out my wife can cook, or did anyone help her?’ No one replies and he sits down, pouring himself a large glass of wine. He downs it swiftly, then pours another and drinks that too. He sits back and sighs loudly.

Melly’s bright expression doesn’t falter; she doles out portions of chicken in a herb-scented sauce and the plates of food are passed around.

‘One too many. Trying to fatten me up?’ Paul passes the extra plate back.

Melissa scans the table. ‘Who isn’t here?’

Eric glances around the faces; he looks at Poppy. ‘Call your sister down.’

‘Why is it always me?’ Poppy stares back at her father and doesn’t budge.

‘I’ll go.’ Charley bounds from the room. She is gone for a surprisingly long time and when she reappears, she looks scared. ‘She’s not in the bedrooms. I’ve looked everywhere, in Eve’s room too. Actually, I haven’t seen her since we woke up.’