Aunt Melissa had suffered from her nerves. Eva had known this all her life. Most of the time she was fine, but then the phone would ring and her father would speak in hushed, calming tones before taking his car keys and disappearing for a few hours – sometimes for a whole night. Her mother would offer them a tight smile and, by way of explanation, would say: ‘Auntie Melissa’s in a bit of a tizz again, that’s all.’

A bit of a tizz. A little frazzled. On edge. Her nerves are at her again.

All these different terms her parents had for what was a clinical mental problem.

It had never occurred to Eva that it might be an inherited condition, one that could be lurking within her own DNA. Or Beth’s.

After the incident, Eva had wanted Beth to change school. But in the end, her parents decided that there had been enough upheaval in their lives. Beth’s act was marked down as a one-off. She had been ‘acting-out’ as teenagers sometimes do.

But Eva knew that it was not all right. One by one, she’d watched as Beth’s friends had peeled away from her – even Lisa. Beth roamed the school corridors alone. At lunchtime, she sat in the library, reading. She didn’t volunteer for the school play, or for the Young Scientists Exhibition, or for Junior UN. At home, she seemed swathed in a dreamy silence, but at school it took on a different shape. Beth was unpredictable, nervy, and now, as the scraping of another chair announced a further interruption, Eva felt a familiar dread as Alicia elbowed her sharply and said:

‘That’s your sister.’

Beth stood, stalk-like above the sea of turned faces, her voice rising in an arc, ‘Missss!’

A ripple went out through the crowd, chairs around her pushing back, girls hastily getting to their feet and leaping away in horror, the acrid smell of vomit percolating through the air.

Assembly proceedings were brought to a halt. A path was cleared, and Eva watched as her sister walked Corinne out through the hall, the French girl pale-faced and drawn, Beth’s arm wrapped protectively around her.

The girls filed out, returning to their classrooms. The caretaker was summoned to clean up the mess.

Later, Eva heard it said that the French girl had stuck her fingers down her own throat.

But Eva had not seen this for herself. She dismissed it as an unsubstantiated rumour. There were lots of them going around.

9

‘Trouble?’ Corinne asked.

Mark put the phone down and looked up. She was standing on the stairs, barefoot, wearing that perpetual hoodie of hers. It was just the two of them in the house.

‘Not really,’ he replied. ‘That was Helen Bracken. She was calling to check you’re feeling okay.’