I painted all morning. When I stopped, the light was still flat and grey, the morning sliding towards the tipping point of the day. Outside, the front garden was a picture of sogginess, the weekend’s rain having dampened the fallen leaves into a wet mulch. Even next-door’s lawn, usually so well kept, looked sorry for itself. I remembered, again, Rohan’s instruction to get the tree removed and eyeballed it, willing it not to fall.

I’d been working on the seventh painting. The base was there: a mouth encompassing the whole face, its lips yawning open in a scream. No eyes, no nose. Behind it, the background would be swirling clouds of dark, rusty red. It would take a lot more blood than last time. I’d do it after Rohan had left.

I took one last look at my work, then backed out of the attic, closing the door quietly behind me. The light fell differently on the landing, illuminating dust motes. I paused for a moment but the hairs on the back of my neck prickled with the sense of the paintings gathered behind the attic door. I flew down the stairs, my bare feet silent, and then I heard it: Mili’s laugh. In the kitchen. A joyous cackle from Sofia; the deep baritone of Rohan’s voice. I dropped down to the bottom step and sat, hugging my knees.

‘You’re so good with her,’ Mili was saying. ‘Such a natural.’

‘Aww, she’s my good girl, aren’t you, Sofia?’ Rohan replied, then there was a giggle from Sofia. I heard the tinkle of bells and a clickety-clack: toys to keep her occupied.

Mili’s voice again. ‘Yours and Abi’s kids will be gorgeous. You’ll make beautiful babies.’ A pause, then a lowered tone. ‘Are you even trying, or is Mum barking up the wrong tree?’

I held my breath. Rohan coughed and a chair scraped on the floor. ‘We’re practising,’ he said.

‘But nothing’s happening?’

‘Watch this space.’ The hope in his voice made me squeeze my arms tighter around my knees.

Hope in the upward inflection of Mili’s voice, too. ‘She’s pregnant?’

‘No – well, not that we know of. But you never know. This might be our lucky month.’

‘Fingers crossed. You’ll make such a great dad.’

There was a clatter and some chattering from Sofia. I stood up, ready to go in, but then Mili’s voice again: ‘How is Abi, anyway? It’s hard when it’s not happening. Is she all right?’

‘Well…’ Rohan cleared his throat. ‘I’m not sure.’

I sat back down.

‘Okay,’ Mili said slowly. A teaspoon chinked on china. ‘So tell me. What’s up?’

Rohan sighed. ‘Have you met her friend Grace? The one who’s staying here?’

There was a pause, then, ‘Nope. Don’t think so. Why?’