‘Since Anouk left. I miss her.’ She said the words plainly, a little half-shrug that implied resignation. ‘Beth is lucky – she has Eva.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed, although he doubted either of his daughters drew much comfort from each other. Especially not lately; there had been a distinct coolness between the girls ever since Melissa’s will had been read.

‘What about you?’ she asked him now. ‘You must miss your sister.’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Beth told me what happened. It must have been awful for you.’ Her face had grown serious, her eyes narrowing into a frown of concern, and he felt a familiar lurch inside himself – a feeling akin to nausea. It came upon him anytime Melissa’s suicide was touched upon.

‘Yes, it was awful,’ he replied, his voice stiff. ‘Particularly awful for Abi. She was the one who found the body.’

‘But you were her brother. It’s different,’ she insisted. ‘You must feel so sad.’

He looked down, the nausea lapping at his insides.

‘It’s guilt more than sadness, to be honest.’ How strange it was to hear himself saying these words. ‘When she died I felt like I’d let her down. I’d failed her.’

‘Beth said she had been ill.’

He closed his eyes briefly, pressing a thumb against the lid.

‘Multiple sclerosis. It was hard on her. I just hadn’t realized how much she was struggling.’

‘Poor Mark. Minding everybody.’

He opened his eyes and met her gaze. Touched by her compassion, the tenderness with which she’d expressed it, but confused by it too.

‘You don’t need to pity me, Corinne.’

‘I don’t pity you. I admire you. Actually, I am a little envious,’ she told him, turning away as if embarrassed by her admission, fixing her attention now on the model he had started to construct – the cathedral of Notre Dame. Her suggestion.

He watched as she picked up a match, considering where to position it.

‘Envious?’ he pressed when the silence persisted.

‘Beth and Eva are lucky you are here so much. And they are lucky with the life you have made for them. This house, the school they go to, the neighbourhood – everything is so normal. I wish my life was normal like theirs.’

‘What do you mean?’

She put down the matchstick and rubbed at her forehead – a pinched look had come over her face.

‘Where I live, everyone thinks we are strange, you know? My family – the way we live. Everyone thinks we are odd.’