Carefully, she suggested: ‘Perhaps she didn’t want you to know why.’

‘Perhaps.’

He thought about his sister – still a mystery to him, especially after her death. What came to mind now was her love of nature, how she had turned the scrubby patch at the back of the little house in Beaufield Court into a miraculous haven of leafy green calm, a sharp contrast to the drab, poky rooms of the interior which remained filled with the brown furniture from their parents’ time. She’d had friends but no one special. His whole life, he never once recalled mention of a boyfriend. It had crossed his mind that his sister might be gay. One year, issuing the annual Christmas invitation, he had said to her: ‘You know if there’s anyone you would like to bring with you – if there’s a man in your life, or a woman-friend – we’d be only too happy …’ His voice had trailed off when he’d seen the brief flash of horror in her eyes. ‘Just me,’ she’d snapped, and he’d felt cut by the unfamiliar sharpness in her tone. Woman-friend. He cringed at the memory of it.

‘When was the last time you saw her?’ Corinne asked, and he replied that it was a few nights before her death.

‘We had just moved back into the house after all this had been completed.’ He waved his arm to indicate the studio, the kitchen, the utility room. ‘We’d invited her for dinner to show off the new building work.’

‘How did she seem?’

He hesitated, part of him reluctant to discuss it with her – she was just a girl, a teenager. And yet … there was something about Corinne that invited openness, the sharing of confidences. Her gentle questioning, her genuine interest – it had felt like a long time since anyone had probed his feelings so delicately and persistently.

‘She was out of sorts,’ he told her now. ‘Nothing major, but she was quiet.’

He remembered how excited he had been that night, pointing out details like the Crittall windows, the reclaimed blue limestone floor. Melissa had made appreciative noises, but a lack of enthusiasm was coming off her in waves. Eventually, he’d said: ‘What? What is it? Why are you acting like this?’ Sharpness in his tone because he’d read her reaction as evidence of envy or disapproval, neither of which he was prepared to tolerate. But instead of being offended or aggrieved by his attack, Melissa had said:

‘Could you ask your builder to take a look at my house? I’m worried that soon I won’t be able to get up the stairs any more.’