Bethany and Chloe are taking turns to film each other on Bethany’s iPhone, while her father sleeps on. Chloe is wearing even more make-up than usual; Matt really should talk to her. She has a sudden thought. Is Chloe getting made up like this for Joe? They’ll have to watch her properly. She double-checks that neither of them is looking. She can hear the floorboards protesting above her head, as Joe jogs along the landing towards their bedroom. She pulls a bottle of vodka out of the freezer and pours a measure of the viscous liquid into her lemonade. She takes a large swallow of her drink. It courses through her, burning and freezing at the same time. The ice melts so fast it turns into tiny clear pebbles at the bottom of her glass. She wishes she had Bethany’s iron willpower. Bee cut back on her drinking when she was trying to get into TV – although she’s aware that her sister does go completely overboard now and again, when the pressure of being scrutinized on social media gets too much for her. She adds another slug of vodka and swills it around, then replaces the bottle before anyone notices.

Just as she’s about to go and see if Matt is okay, there’s a loud clattering and her husband bursts into the sitting room and flings open the back door.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he yells.

She’s never heard him speak to Chloe like that, but then she realizes he isn’t. He’s shouting at her sister. Amy runs after him, the vodka swirling uneasily in her stomach.

‘What’s going on?’

Bethany gives an elaborate shrug and Chloe looks upset.

‘I saw you from the window!’ Matt says. ‘You were filming her.’

‘I was coaching her,’ Bethany says, as if she’s addressing an imbecile, and Chloe’s shoulders relax a little. She looks defiant and crosses her arms.

‘Coaching her to do what? To be a—’

Amy puts her hands on his arm. He’s hot, sticky with sweat and glassy-eyed. He shrugs her off as if he can’t bear her touch. Her dad sits up groggily and slides his glasses back on.

‘I was giving her some lessons in how to be a presenter,’ Bethany says, her hands on her hips, her tone aggressive.

‘You were making her look like a porn star!’

‘I was not! I was showing her how to stand so she won’t look fat.’

‘What’s happening?’ her father asks, looking from Matt to Bethany, both of whom ignore him.

‘Fat! Fat? My daughter isn’t even half the size you are!’

‘I know she’s not fat. The camera adds around ten pounds, so it’s important to learn…’

‘There’s nothing my daughter could possibly learn from you.’

Bethany gapes at him.

‘Dad! I asked her to help me,’ Chloe says.