For a moment, she looked about at the detritus gathered there – photograph albums, folders full of tax documents, envelopes stuffed with invoices – the room felt oppressive with her sister-in-law’s death and the whole mess she had left behind. Sitting in one of the armchairs, Abi felt the shock of it all over again: the little grenade Melissa had lobbed at them from the grave. Her thoughts went to that day in the solicitor’s office when the will was read out. At first, she’d thought she’d misheard: that Melissa had left her house to Beth, and Beth alone. Solely and completely. A look of dull confusion had come over Mark’s face. He’d had to ask the solicitor to repeat it.

Beth had always been Melissa’s favourite niece, but to so blatantly reward her while Eva got nothing? Surely, she must have known the trouble such a bequest would stir up in their family?

Eva’s response to the snub had been one of lofty dismissal. ‘I never liked that poky little house,’ she’d announced airily. ‘Beth’s welcome to it. The place gives me the creeps.’

But Beth had said little. She’d just sat there absorbing the information, her face giving little away. Later, when it was just the two of them alone, Mark had said to Abi: ‘She seemed so composed, didn’t she? Almost as if she knew about it already?’

Abi hadn’t responded. But she had noticed an unmistakable coolness hanging in the air now whenever both her daughters were in the same room together. She knew Mark sensed it too.

‘Have you made any progress?’ Abi asked now.

‘A little.’ Then, sheepishly, he conceded: ‘Actually, that’s not true. I couldn’t face going through all this shit. I was too hung-over.’

‘Quelle surprise,’ she remarked, an eyebrow raised in mock-disapproval. ‘So what have you been doing with yourself?’

‘Reading a script.’

‘Oh?’

‘Andrew sent it over. He thought I’d be interested.’ Then he added: ‘Actually, he asked me if I’d come on board with the production.’

‘Really?’ The surprised scepticism leaked into her voice before she could stop it.

‘That wouldn’t be a problem, would it?’

‘No.’

‘We always said that once the girls were old enough—’

‘Of course—’

‘And when we had this extension built, and you suggested I use it as my studio, I assumed that meant you’d be happy for me to get serious again about—’

‘Mark, it’s fine. You don’t need to persuade me. I think it’s great that you’re thinking about work again. Really.’

This was only partly true. Yes, she wanted him to feel happy and fulfilled. But selfishly, she couldn’t help thinking of how his revived interest in his career would affect her life. It all seemed so precariously balanced – she was afraid how this might tip things over.