‘Not much cleaning’s been done since…’ He hesitated. ‘Well, since your mother last came.’

He walked into the sitting room and I followed and was confronted with the same chaos. Its museum-calm was infected by dirty glasses, mugs, clothes, wet towels, even bottles and napkins and plates, all left over from the party more than a week before. The remains of the tiny egg were still trodden into the rug and one of the large canvasses was off the wall, leaning against the sideboard, a gaping ragged hole in its centre.

I jumped when I saw her.

She lay on the white leather settee, sleeping, one leg bent, the other trailing the floor, hand a few inches from a near-empty bottle of whisky which lay on its side. Her other hand lightly clasped a glass that rested on her stomach. Her mouth was open, make-up smudged down her cheeks, her hair in disarray.

He came up behind me, took in the sight of his wife, and muttered under his breath.

‘Why don’t you take a seat.’ He gestured for me to sit in the chair in the corner. ‘I’ll help Eleanor upstairs. She’s not been feeling well.’

I watched him pick up the bottle and carefully uncurl her fingers from the glass and place both on the coffee table. Then he bent and lifted her. Carried her exactly as he had the night Mum kissed Gareth and I’d gone to watch the house from my spot on the cliffside. Her head fell back, mouth gaping, eyes half-open with the whites revealed. She didn’t deserve him. She didn’t deserve the house. None of it. She was spoilt and ungrateful and poisoned this beautiful place with every breath she exhaled.

Max and Eleanor disappeared up the stairs. I listened to his footsteps above, the door to their room creaking a little as he pushed it open. I turned to look out of the window. The table on the terrace was still covered with everything from the party. Amid the chaos, the pool was perfect. Flat and calm with the light bouncing off it so it sparkled. I imagined diving into it. Imagined how still it would be beneath the surface and how closely the water would hold me. As I thought of it I remembered Edie and my brother writhing in the water. My skin flushed hot. I dug my fingernails into my palms and forced the image back into the shadows.

A few minutes later he came down. He held a sweatshirt and tracksuit bottoms which I recognised as Eleanor’s. ‘I thought you might like some clean clothes.’ I glanced down at mine which were covered in blood.

He stepped closer and gripped my upper arm. ‘Try not to worry,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you change in my study while I finish making the tea?’

When he smiled the uneasy atmosphere in the house began to subside.