He was in his studio, Tom Waits growling on the stereo, an open bottle of beer beside him – his Catholicism had lapsed long ago. A box containing the emptied contents of Melissa’s desk was open in front of him. For weeks, he’d been putting off going through it, but now, on this evening, he’d felt relaxed – buoyant even. There’d been another email from Andrew full of enthusiasm about Mark’s ideas. Again, he’d pressed Mark to commit to the project, outlining dates and deliverables, locations and timescales. It was in this bright mood of optimism that he’d decided to tackle Melissa’s effects. He’d been sifting through a pile of her paperwork when he discovered the note.

‘Jesus,’ he said, holding it out in front of him, his hand trembling a little as he realized what it was.

Corinne looked up, one hand holding a matchstick suspended over the foundations of Notre Dame. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

She was working on the model while waiting for Beth. Distantly, the hum of the shower could be heard. Moments earlier, Eva had popped her head around the door, informing him that she was going out.

‘Where to?’ he’d asked.

‘Just out. Alicia’s waiting,’ she’d said, evasive and impatient.

‘Can I come with you?’ Corinne had asked, and Mark had noticed the frown coming over Eva’s face.

‘No,’ she’d snapped. ‘Find someone else to stalk for the night.’

‘Hey, easy,’ he’d warned.

But Corinne wasn’t offended. Tentatively, she’d offered a compliment, as if attempting to smooth over the spike in the atmosphere between them. ‘You’re beautiful,’ she’d said. Eva had slammed the door on her way out.

Now Corinne got to her feet and came towards him, but he held the letter back from her, reluctant to share it yet.

How easily he might have missed it. How innocuous it looked! At first glance, it was just a series of instructions: how to set the heating, how to turn on and off the house alarm. Account numbers listed along with PIN codes, passwords for online banking. Instructions for the payment of utility bills. It was only when he flipped it over that he realized what it was he held in his hand.

The writing, which had been neat and orderly, now turned into a looser scrawl.

I hope this all makes sense. And I’m sorry about everything. Mx

Aware of Corinne standing next to him, waiting for some explanation of his behaviour, he said:

‘A note from my sister. I had hoped there’d be some indication as to why … I thought she might at least—’ He broke off, overcome, and Corinne reached out and touched his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

‘I’m fine,’ he told her quickly, exhaling sharply.

She withdrew her hand and sat down on the floor next to him.