There are curled flies on the floors of the rooms that open off the passageway, cobwebs at the windows, the lights are dim. The dusty air stings her throat. None of the children would come up here. Charley would hate the dead flies. Blake would be frightened by the gloom. She could have that wrong, though. These things might not matter in a group; they might seek out the half-light, the undisturbed air; her children might be different in a gang. There are cigarette butts in a corner of the last room along the corridor, the floor darkened by scorch marks, a lighter on the mantelpiece. A heap of little stones under the bed, flinty ones. She picks one up, muddy, red-stained on one side, and stares around, seeking an explanation. Perhaps these items belong to past inhabitants or guests long gone. It’s unpleasant up here, gloomy, the air feels stale, no one has been here for a long time. She leaves the rooms and hurries downstairs, meeting Melly in the hall. She looks tired and anxious.

‘The police have been questioning us all in turn: Eve, Eric, me, Paul, Igor; everyone who was around last night. They’re having a break now; it’ll be you and Martin next. Paul’s had enough; he wants Izzy to come back with us but she’s refused.’ Melly’s voice is trembling. ‘She says Poppy needs her to stay the night. Paul’s waiting outside, he’s put my bag in the car. I’m not sure what to do.’ Her eyes are lowered, as if reluctant to look Grace in the eye.

‘Go home with your husband, Melly.’ Melly clearly feels guilty for keeping quiet about Martin and Eve, but Grace has had time to think and now she understands. Melly meant well; if Paul had been unfaithful, she might not have told Melly either, out of compassion, and the hope the affair would burn itself out. ‘Tell Paul I’ll keep an eye on Izzy. My kids can stay too, it’s late. I’ll sleep on the sofa.’

‘Thank you. I’ll be back,’ Melly promises. ‘First thing tomorrow.’

Grace nods. When disaster struck in her grandparents’ village, family moved in, kept the children fed and the homestead alive; as long as it took. Eve doesn’t have family; it’s down to her now, her and Melly.

Paul is waiting in the car, staring ahead, grim-faced. He turns as the door opens, gives an unsmiling salute to Grace as Melly climbs in beside him then drives off quickly, gravel spraying from the wheels.