Neither of them had smoked since the girls were born, but Mark remembered a packet of Marlboros he had found in Eva’s schoolbag some years back, and he went into the den now to find them. Pausing for a moment in the doorway, he was arrested by the explosion of matchsticks spread around the room. The aftermath of his fury seemed pathetic and sad – as futile and silly as the whole matchstick building endeavour.

Now, wading through the detritus, the matches snapping underfoot, he felt a great urge to set it alight, the whole damned room, every last stick of furniture in it. So much of what was gathered here had been Melissa’s. The musty smell of it filled his nostrils, making him bilious and light-headed. Quickly, he found the battered carton of Marlboros in a drawer of his desk, then exited the room, pulling the door firmly shut behind him.

In the kitchen, Abi lit a cigarette with trembling hands. The smoke escaped her lips in a sigh, and she closed her eyes and rested her head against the heel of her hand.

‘Why didn’t she tell us?’ she asked him now.

‘I don’t know.’

It was not the first time that night she asked the question. Their conversation kept circling back to the same repeated pleas: When did it start? For how long did it go on? How bad was it? Why didn’t Beth tell them? Mark didn’t have any answers. And a large part of his mind still fought against it, refusing to accept what Abi seemed so willing to believe.

‘It all makes sense now,’ she told him.

‘What does?’

‘Harming herself at school – the violence of that act. She was trying to tell us, Mark. I can’t believe we didn’t pick up on it.’

He felt the reproach but said nothing. Abi banged her forehead with the heel of her hand – remorse, anxiety, frustration, all coming off her in waves.

‘Is that when it started, do you think?’

‘I don’t know,’ he replied.

‘How long do you think it went on for?’

‘I don’t know—’

‘What did Melissa actually do to Beth? I mean, what level of abuse are we talking about here?’

‘Abi—’

‘Corinne said touching, but how intimate was it? Was it rape?’

‘Abi, would you listen to me?’ He spoke sharply. ‘I said I don’t know, okay?’

‘God, I just feel so frustrated! Part of me wants to run up the stairs right now and wake Beth so I can put these questions to her and get some answers—’

‘Hey.’ He was gentle now, seeing how worked up she was getting. ‘We agreed, right? It’s better to wait and talk to her calmly.’