Mark caught the derision in his voice, the quick flicker of his eyes, and he recognized it at once: the same assessment every boy in his class, every kid on his street, had ever made about him. That he was a weirdo, a freak. From a family of freaks. His ancient, bookish parents, his frumpy, introverted sister – it was all there in that look. Sometimes, as a child, he’d looked up from his book, or his model-making, his attention drawn by a sharp snapping sound breaking the silence, and his mother would dash outside just as the kids disappeared on their bikes, the egg yolks and albumen dripping down the stippled masonry, sliding over the windowpanes.

Somehow, when Ross Campbell looked at him, Mark felt the man glimpsed all those dark days of his childhood, got the measure of what had formed him, the way a bully always spied a weakness.

‘We don’t have a television either.’

Both men turned towards the voice.

Corinne was standing in the doorway, her hands in her pockets, one shoulder leaning against the door frame. She was smiling, but Mark could see the challenge there in her open face as she held Ross’s gaze.

‘And who are you?’ Ross asked, bemused.

‘This is Corinne – Beth’s friend. She’s visiting from France for a couple of weeks.’

‘Is that so?’ Ross smirked. ‘Like the hair,’ he added, shooting an amused glance at Mark who didn’t reciprocate, resenting the attempt at forced collusion. Despite all his good intentions at focusing on the positives, he felt in that moment a trickle of dislike for the man.

‘What sort of tower will it be?’ Corinne asked, stepping into the room, moving confidently past until she was at the little table, picking up a matchstick and testing the sharpness of it against her palm. ‘The Eiffel Tower, perhaps?’

She said this playfully, smiling at him, and Mark found himself warming to her.

‘Perhaps. Or maybe the bell towers of Notre Dame.’

‘Just the bell towers? Why not the whole cathedral?’

He laughed. ‘That might be overly ambitious.’

‘But why? Maybe I could help you!’

‘If you like.’

‘I would like that.’ She put down the match and stretched expansively, sighing with pleasure. ‘I just love this room, so full of nostalgia!’ she declared. ‘It reminds me of home. Even the smell – so familiar.’

Mark could feel Ross’s interest cocked by this girl. She was so guileless and free in her expression. There was something embarrassing about her openness and yet he found it refreshing too. Both his daughters had become so closed to him during their adolescence – remote in their differing ways. But now, while he watched Corinne picking through the things he had amassed here, taking delight in them, he found himself struck by the light and colour she brought into the space. He hardly noticed it when Beth poked her head around the door.