He met her eyes, saw the shock registering, and something shot through him that might have been fear, but also might have been a thrill of excitement. Because that’s what you got when you leapt off the precipice: a rush of adrenaline to shave the ragged edges off the terror.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she told him, that half-laugh coming again, a horrible nervous hiccup.

From outside on the terrace, he heard Valentina’s singsong voice calling up to them.

He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s getting late,’ he said. ‘We’d better go.’

‘You can’t just leave things like this!’

He shot her a look loaded with unspoken grievance.

‘I’m not the one who made this arrangement,’ he reminded her. ‘I don’t even want to go out with these bloody people. Not that you’d even considered that.’

He left the room before she could have a chance to reply.

You’ve gone very quite. No more pics?

Eva was lying on her bed contemplating this message when her dad put his head around the door.

‘We’re heading out now, love,’ he told her. ‘You’re in charge, okay?’

‘Sure.’

Through the open door, she caught a glimpse of her mother passing behind him, heard the thunder of her footsteps on the stairs. She’d heard the rumble of their argument through the wall, the words inaudible but the tone unmistakable. Her parents hardly ever fought – her father was too repressed and her mother too slippery to pin down. Instinctively, Eva rolled her eyes. She wasn’t in the mood for any of that crap. Her father was still hovering in the doorway, trapped by his indecision.

‘What?’ she snapped.

‘Keep an eye on those two downstairs, will you?’

‘I’m not their babysitter.’

‘I know. Just … if you notice anything …’

His voice drifted. The look he was giving her was hapless and pathetic.

‘Fine,’ she said. Satisfied, he backed out of the room. A minute later she heard the front door slam.

Returning her attention to the text, she considered how to respond. Ross had misspelled ‘quiet’ which was funny and sort of endearing, although she’d have scoffed had it been anyone else.

No more cars, she typed, then sent.

A few seconds later, his response came back: Doesn’t have to be of cars.

She sat up a little on the bed.

Where are you? Still in the pub? she asked.

Back home now, came the answer.

She wondered if Becca was there. A guilty flush passed through her as she pictured them in their kitchen, Becca tossing a salad, little Jo making a jigsaw on the floor, Ross beside him pretending to play while secretly texting Eva.

But then her phone pinged again.

All alone here. Looking for distraction ;)

Her heart beat faster. She leaned forward and bit her lip.