‘There was no one here when it was delivered so Becca signed for it. Relax, sweetheart, it’s not like they’re going to run off with it, are they?’

Eva slumped against one of the kitchen stools.

‘So? Why don’t you go over there now and get it?’ Mark asked, adding: ‘They’re home – I just heard noises through the wall.’

Eva wracked her brain but couldn’t think of a good reason not to.

And so, she peeled herself away from the counter, smoothed back her hair in the hall, and a minute later she was at the Campbells’ front door, leaning quickly on the bell, her heart pounding, as she waited for a silhouette to appear behind the bevelled glass.

Please let it be Becca, she silently prayed. But the broad shoulders and the bald dome of Ross’s head appeared behind the glass, and when he pulled open the door and saw her, the naked shock in his face, the wariness with which he regarded her, seemed to stop up all the words inside her so for a moment, she couldn’t speak.

‘Eva,’ he said, and the sound of her name in his mouth made her feel deeply uncomfortable, waves of embarrassment crashing over her.

‘Hi. Sorry to barge in on you,’ she said, hearing the high, reedy note of nerves in her voice, knowing her neck was blotchy and red. ‘But I believe you guys took receipt of a delivery for me today?’

Awkwardness made her speak formally, but if Ross noticed it, he didn’t comment, wordlessly standing back and ushering her into the house. When he closed the door behind her, she caught the scent of his aftershave, suddenly and intensely familiar to her.

‘Come on through to the kitchen,’ he said, leading the way.

She followed, her eyes casting about the place nervously. From upstairs, she could hear the sound of running water, the high shriek of little Jo’s voice.

The laptop was in its box on the kitchen island, and Eva went forward to pick it up, noticing the half-empty bottle of beer alongside it, a second bottle already drained.

Ross waited by the kitchen door, watching as she picked up the box. When she turned back, saying, ‘Thanks so much for keeping it for me,’ she saw him closing the door behind him, his face grave, and her heart gave out a sudden kick.

‘Becca’s upstairs with Jo,’ he told her. ‘We only have a minute.’

‘Please,’ she began, flustered now. ‘I don’t—’

‘I owe you an explanation. I know you must think I’ve been avoiding you, and the truth is, I have been. All that stuff, when you were in France – it got a bit too intense, you know?’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘No! God, I’m the one who’s sorry! You’ve got nothing to apologize for.’