Angie froze. She put down the cloth she was holding and moved out of the kitchen and stepped into the living room in order to hear better.

‘Flirting?’ he exclaimed. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘There’s something going on with her. I know there is.’

He gave a bitter snort of laughter. ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this.’

‘Don’t you dare deny it. I saw you together in the kitchen. When I walked in you pulled away from each other as if I’d burnt you. And she’s always here. Always hanging around. Why? It’s not as if Edie likes her that much. I can tell the girl bores her rigid.’

Angie’s stomach pitched; they were talking about Tamsyn.

‘No. You’ve got that wrong. Edie’s fond of her. Have you seen her with everybody else? Tamsyn’s about the only person she actually gives the time of day to.’

‘She’s always staring at you.’

‘She’s always staring at all of us! She’s imprinted on us in some way. Enjoys being here. I’ve seen how she relaxes as soon as she walks in. Maybe things aren’t good at home? She often arrives looking tense. Maybe this is some sort of escape for her?’

‘Don’t you throw your writer’s psychobabble bullshit at me.’ Eleanor spat the words out like globs of battery acid. ‘I saw how you were with each other last night. Everybody did, for crying out loud. Jumping to her defence, winking at her, smiling at her when you thought nobody was looking.’

‘I smiled at her because last night she was a fish out of water and the poor girl needed reassurance, and I jumped to her defence because that boorish friend of yours was – as per usual – being a wanker and needed to be put in his place.’

When Eleanor next spoke Angie could detect a very obvious note of underlying weariness in her voice. ‘She’s sixteen, Max. Sixteen. Even by your standards, that’s a little young.’

Angie lifted her hand to her mouth and chewed on her fingernail. Surely there was no way Tamsyn could be involved with Max?

‘What – exactly – are you accusing me of, Eleanor?’

‘It’s not as if you don’t have form.’

He was silent.

‘Everybody in London knows what you get up to. All those literary events and society parties? Girls hanging off you. Weekends away.’

‘That’s enough.’

Then the voices went low again.