The first couple of weeks passed, a routine quickly establishing itself in the household. Abi left early for work before the rest of them were stirring. Eva, having started university, was rarely home. Days often passed without Mark setting eyes on her. And with Beth and Corinne busy at school, Mark found himself once more alone.

His studio was tidy now, all of Melissa’s effects boxed up and put away or else discarded. A question mark still hung over what to do about her house, but Mark had decided to wait until probate had been taken care of before raising the matter once more. Despite Eva’s lofty dismissals, it remained a thorny issue.

On his return from France, Mark had emailed Andrew and informed him of his decision to withdraw from the film. ‘There’ll be other projects,’ Abi had gently suggested, and lately Mark had started putting out feelers, seeking local projects that would not draw him away from home for long.

He tried not to feel bitter about it, and yet it still rankled. That morning, he’d received an email from Andrew, who was on location in the Czech Republic. Photo attachments showed an enormous, sprawling set outside Prague, each image crawling with little ant-like carpenters, electricians and specialist painters. Mark had pored over the pictures with a mixture of awe, criticism and envy. Mostly he felt excluded.

Now, as he read over his CV once more, contemplating ways to jazz it up a little and fill in the gaping holes with something other than ‘Fatherhood’, Mark realized that the email from Andrew had made him feel shockingly middle-aged. The distance that had opened out between the experiences of the two men seemed vast. While one’s career had skyrocketed, the other’s had stagnated, Mark’s professional life dying a slow, silent death with no mourners, only a vague sense of embarrassment. For the first time it dawned on him that there was little chance of him reviving it. He felt the dearth of his life experience; so much had been wasted. These were the thoughts he was mulling over when Eva’s footfall sounded outside the door. Seconds later she appeared in his studio.

‘I need to talk to you,’ she told him, her voice frosty and tight.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked wearily.

‘That freak was in my bedroom again.’ He returned his gaze to the computer screen but still he felt her eyes on him, shining coals of fury.

‘You’re talking about Corinne, I presume.’

‘Who else? It’s the third time this week. Why is she always in my fucking space?’

‘She’s probably lonely.’

‘She’s got Beth, hasn’t she?’

‘I suppose.’

‘And you,’ Eva added.

Mark looked up, thinking he’d caught a note in her voice.

‘Me?’

‘Come on, Dad. She’s always in here, fiddling with that stupid model.’