At that moment they heard a crash next door. Eva, who had been on the verge of retorting that there was nothing wrong with any of those jobs, fell silent, fear prickling across the back of her neck.

‘This coffee is cold,’ Abi remarked, getting to her feet. ‘I’ll make us some more and then let’s talk about this properly—’

She was halfway across the kitchen when there was another smash against the wall.

‘God, what was that?’ Abi asked.

From behind the wall they heard the low rumble of a man’s voice, the words indecipherable but the tone was clear – a raised shout of anger. Eva’s heart gave out a hard warning beat.

There was another crash and then a woman’s scream, and Abi turned to her daughter, her face grave.

‘What’s going on in there?’

‘I don’t know.’ Eva was holding herself very still, straining to listen, aware that the blood had drained from her face.

‘It sounds like they’re breaking every dish in the house,’ Abi commented, shock in her voice, as they heard another smash above the mangled roar of voices. ‘Do you think we should call the police?’

Eva’s head jerked back. ‘What? Why on earth—’

‘It sounds bad. We should at least call to the door to see if everything’s all right, make sure they’re not killing each other.’

‘No,’ Eva said firmly.

‘I just—’

‘Leave them be, Mum. It’s none of our business, okay?’ Her voice tilting away from firmness towards something far less controlled.

‘We really don’t need this right now,’ Abi breathed, rubbing her forehead, looking harassed.

Distantly, Eva thought she could make out the words: fucking liar! Becca’s voice bent into a shriek. Abi was standing by the cooker, arms crossed, looking down, clearly listening, and Eva wanted her mother to move away, fearful of what she might overhear. But she herself was rooted to the spot, listening sharply, trying to put herself beyond the wall and into that room, wanting and not wanting to witness the appalling scene, to hear whether her own name might come into it, all that they’d done.

Another smash against the wall, her mother’s head pulling back as if the china might come shattering through into their kitchen, and Abi looked at Eva and asked: ‘You don’t think he’d hit her, do you?’

‘No! Of course not!’

‘It sounds violent—’

‘That’s her, not him! Ross would never hurt anyone! He’s not like that—’

She broke off, aware how her voice had risen sharply. Abi was staring at Eva; the shock that had been on her face over the sounds from next door fell away now. A new suspicion entered her gaze.

‘Eva?’ she said, and Eva pushed herself away from the table, moving quickly to the kitchen door.