John had been working from home that day. He had mostly remained in his study, emerging only to make a wordless cup of tea at eleven and to collect the sandwich she’d laid out for him at one. Katrina had known from the moment they woke that it would be better not to disturb him today. Impossible yet to say if it would be a bad one.

She completed the skirting boards in the living room, dusted the top of the piano and the windowsills with the same damp cloth and got her long-handled feather duster to do the corners of the ceiling. Then she laid down the duster, sneezed three times in quick succession, and went to crouch by Beth’s pen.

“All right, love?” she said, and Beth stared up at her with that mournful, contemplative look that babies sometimes have, as though they have come from another place. Then she put Joe Bear down and pushed out her fat little arm for her mother’s earrings. Katrina moved out of reach, took off her earrings—dangly silver ones she didn’t much like, but which John had bought her years before—and leaned in again to tickle Beth under her arms. The gappy, delighted smile appeared immediately, and Beth gave her full, surprisingly throaty chuckle that always made Katrina laugh too.

“Have you been having a nice time?” Katrina said, and Beth said, “Ba-rat,” which was a fairly new one that Katrina hadn’t worked out yet. Then Beth added, “Mama,” and gave a smile so wide it screwed her eyes shut, as if practising how far she could stretch all the muscles of her face.

“That’s right, my darling,” Katrina said, reaching into the pen to lift her out, sighing with bliss at the familiar, warm weight of her child.

Outside, Nicky and Tommy didn’t venture far from the house, taking refuge from the wind in the shelter of its walls. In an hour or so, the light would start to fade. Soon, they knew, their mum would come outside to ask them to watch Beth while she made tea, so they had to make the most of their freedom while they had it. Tommy had his hands pushed into his coat pockets and thought that he’d rather be playing inside today, but Nicky had ushered him out of the back door after their milk and snack, saying self-importantly, “We need to keep the noise down,” which annoyed Tommy, even though he knew Nicky was right. Nicky always thought he knew best because he was ten, and Tommy especially hated it when Nicky used words that weren’t his own, pretending to be a grown up.

But they were so good, both of them, at sensing the tiny currents in the air inside the house. They knew when to keep out of the way.