Amy looks at the poppadom crumbs scattered across the table, grains of rice trapped in smears of mango chutney. She doesn’t know why Nick is telling them some story about Bethany. She’s finding it hard to focus.

My sister. My sister let my daughter die. She can’t think of anything else.

‘Bethany wasn’t having any of it. We had a huge row. She said some terrible things. But you know how Bee is. Most of it’s hot air. Still, it was painful at the time.’

‘You spoke to one of your colleagues about her, and he offered to talk to Bethany. In fact he said she could stay in his spare room until she was ready to return home. Professor Paul Williams. One of the senior lecturers. You liked him; he was well respected.’

Our father glances down now at his hands resting on the table, the knuckles starting to swell with arthritis.

‘It seemed like a good plan, and it worked – at first. Bethany listened to the prof. He’d always had a way with the students, particularly the female ones,’ Nick continues. ‘She took him up on his offer and moved into his house in Clifton. It was beautiful. Large rooms, high ceilings, gorgeous Georgian proportions. One of those baths with lion’s feet. All the luxuries we didn’t have – an endless supply of hot water, an American fridge full of food. He bought her stuff too. A posh dressing gown. A nice frock. A pretty necklace. It didn’t worry you at the time that he was in his fifties and had never been married? It didn’t strike you as odd?’

It’s as if the room has sharpened into high definition: every pore on her father’s face is visible, every age spot, every thread vein and stray hair. Amy puts her hand over her mouth and gives a small moan.

‘Do you want to tell them what happened?’ Nick asks their father.

Their dad clasps his hands together. ‘This is wholly inappropriate, under the circumstances. It’s not the time or the place. Chloe is present, apart from any other consideration.’

‘I know already,’ Chloe says, tracing a line through a pool of salt on the table. She doesn’t look at any of them.

Matt opens his mouth to speak, but Nick cuts across him. ‘He raped her. Repeatedly.’

Her father gives a violent jerk as if Nick has speared him with his fork. He’s turned ashen.

‘That’s somewhat of an overstatement,’ her father finally says.