She could just leave. Walk out of the front door and never see any of them again. It was so tempting. She looked out of Ben’s bedroom window; there was the gate, the red brick wall, a row of dark conifers and beyond them the street. Jump in a taxi and then away, away to Los Angeles and Mike and the future.

‘Isabelle!’ Her father’s voice; she didn’t answer.

‘There’s a drink for you down here. It’s going flat.’

Going flat? Champagne, then? What was the occasion? What were they about to spring on her?

‘Are you coming?’ His voice nearer now, halfway up the stairs. ‘Are you in the loo?’

She burst out of Ben’s room. ‘No I’m not.’

‘Ah.’ He saw her expression, and the smile vanished from his face. ‘There you are.’

‘What’s going on, Dad?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You here. Ben here. Champagne.’

He didn’t deny the champagne. ‘Just seeing you off in style. Any objections to that? We’re very proud of you.’

‘Huh.’

‘What?’

‘I said “Huh.”

‘Meaning what, precisely?’

He leaned against a cupboard door, folded his arms, crossed his legs, waiting for an explanation. There was a time when this would have led to an argument and threats, an explosion of temper, then reconciliation and hugging. Not now.

She walked past him and down the stairs.

Christine was making gravy. Gravy! When did she last make gravy? It wasn’t Christmas, for God’s sake.

‘This mine?’ Isabelle took the fullest glass of champagne, and without saying cheers drank half of it at a gulp. She intercepted a look between Christine and Andy.

‘So,’ she said. ‘Happy families.’

Christine stirred the gravy a little more vigorously. ‘It’s lovely to be all together.’

‘Is it?’

Ben drifted into the living room, picked up a magazine and threw himself on to the sofa.

‘When are you off to LA, then?’ asked Christine.

‘Day after tomorrow.’

‘How exciting!’

Isabelle said nothing, swirled the last mouthful of champagne around the bottom of her glass and drained it.

‘Make sure you check out the new Rice – Brotherson building,’ said Andy. ‘I did a lot of the interiors on that.’

‘I’m going to be busy.’

‘More champagne?’ Christine signalled to Andy, who refilled Isabelle’s glass.

‘Must be hard for you to believe that you’ve come such a long way in such short time,’ said Christine.

‘Not really.’

‘We’re so proud of you.’

‘Are we?’

‘Right,’ said Christine, turning away and pouring the gravy out of the pan, into a bowl. ‘I think we’re just about ready. Darling, will you carve?’

Darling? She never called him darling when they were married.