The front door swings open and Luna jumps, but Simon is ready for her – the two of them perfected this trick many weeks ago. With his elbows bent, and forearms exposed, he catches her deftly. ‘Hey, pup, how are you?’ he asks, pushing the door closed with his foot, causing Beth to wonder whether he’s left a mark on the white-painted wood. As she watches Luna lick his face in answer, and him respond with a muted laugh through zipped-up lips, she can’t help visibly shuddering. Why does he let Luna do that to him? Does he not realise where her tongue has been?

A moment later, there’s a clattering on the stairs and their younger daughter appears. ‘Daddeee!’ As Simon lowers Luna to the floor, Ava wraps her arms around his waist and pushes her head into the slight curve of his torso, her trusted companion tig-tig still scrunched in her fist. She’s always been a daddy’s girl, but Beth doesn’t mind their closeness. Simon is the anchor in this family, not her, so it’s something of a relief to see Ava gravitating towards him.

‘Hey, gorgeous. How was your last Monday at school in 2021?’

Ava screws up her nose. ‘Huh?’

Beth rolls her eyes at Simon before kissing him dutifully on the cheek (close to his ear to avoid the areas Luna might have licked). Then she turns to her daughter. ‘How was your last Monday at school before Christmas, Ava?’

‘CHRISTMAS!’ Ava cries out, proving Beth’s point in one high-volume screech. Magical elves and flying reindeers are much more exciting than some obscure concept of a new year.

Martha’s head pops out from behind the playroom door. ‘Hi, Daddy. Why are you talking about Christmas?’ At 7 years old, Martha is losing her cuteness; chubby face replaced by elegant cheekbones, and milk teeth pushed out by giant slabs of enamel. Beth knows there’s something beautiful forming underneath, but the transition still makes her sad. Because the older Martha gets, the more she looks like Beth. And the harder it becomes to pretend Beth’s origins – her Romanian genes, the hardship of her teenage years – aren’t buried inside her. ‘Are you talking about Santa Claus? Is he definitely coming, Mummy? Because Olivia said he’s not real.’

‘Huh?’ Ava screws up her nose again.