Paul walks past them. ‘We’ll continue our little chat at the house.’ He sounds confident, relaxed even. Perhaps Izzy told him that the other children organized the game, that it was nothing to do with her. ‘See you all later.’ One large hand rests heavily on his daughter’s neck. The heat of that palm must prickle uncomfortably against her skin, but her head is bent, it’s difficult to see her expression. Melissa follows them, turning to raise her hands in a gesture of helplessness. What can we do – she seems to be asking – with such naughty children? Grace feels light-headed and enormously tired.

Eric glances at her. ‘You look exhausted, have a seat.’

She lowers herself on to a stone wall that’s covered with pink flowers shaped like little stars. Eric extracts a couple of beers from an icebox in the shade of the wall, flips off the tops and hands her one. She holds the cold bottle against her neck. Eric seems kind – a kind, thoughtful man. She wonders if Eve sees that still; it’s so easy to take things for granted, lose sight of what you have. Something is happening to her and Martin, a space opening between them which is widening all the time. It’s hard to tell which one of them is moving away or how to close it up. Eric sits next to her with a little sigh.

‘You’ll have to forgive us,’ he says after a while. ‘We allow our kids a lot of freedom; it goes to their heads sometimes, especially here. Eve’s very trusting. She thinks everyone is fundamentally good, that children are born moral, corrupted later.’

‘And you?’

‘The opposite. Children are born barbarians and need to be tamed. My own are probably the worst.’ He leans forward to pick up a stone that has fallen from the wall then kneels to wedge it back. Was that a joke? She can’t see his face; another stone falls out and a large beetle with horned antennae tumbles to the paving and scuttles into the shade.

‘We’re so lucky to have this place, the children love coming here, but there’s always something to do. Little things that don’t seem important at the time but they add up.’ He forces the second stone back into place. ‘Eve says I fuss too much.’

‘It all looks perfect to me.’ Grace wipes her sweating face.

‘That’s because you can’t see what’s happening; we’ll arrive one day to find the house is a heap of stones in the dust, and that the insects have taken over.’ He glances at her and smiles. ‘I’m joking, don’t look so worried.’ He sits next to her again. ‘Blake’s a good lad, by the way; he’s been helping me prune the olive trees.’