He takes the long black out of Claire’s hand and brings the decaf latte to me at the stove. ‘For you, Quin,’ he says, offering it. I continue stirring the eggs, and he sets it down beside me. He takes a sip of his coffee. ‘Need this after Axel made me down that last double of Glenmorangie at midnight.’ He’s so normal now.

Axel laughs. ‘Had to really twist your arm, did I?’

At the table, we sit and everyone begins reaching for grilled tomatoes, scooping scrambled eggs or spearing the crispy bacon with their forks. Everyone but me. Does no one else feel the thickness in the air, or see the heat in my cheeks? The energy in the house has shifted, like the moments after a strong earthquake, but one only I felt.

‘Not hungry?’ Cain says.

I realise he’s talking to me. My eyes, fixed on the empty plate before me, rise now to his face. ‘No,’ I say.

‘Morning sickness?’ Claire asks.

I turn to her. Do you know? No. They couldn’t know. Cain wouldn’t risk it. ‘Yeah, possibly.’

‘Well, everyone else dig in,’ Cain says. I force a mouthful of my decaf latte down.

‘Sometimes,’ Cain begins, ‘I wonder what we would all be doing now if it didn’t happen. You know? If that bastard didn’t do what he did to us.’ He’s looking at me. ‘I can forgive him and what happened, I can pretend it never happened knowing that he’s dead.’

No one speaks, so he continues.

‘I guess that makes me emotionally primitive. Forgiveness in death. Maybe… I’m just a caveman.’ He laughs. Axel gives a snort.

I am a fucking caveman. Those words Daniel said; no, not Daniel. Cain. He can forgive what happened because Daniel is dead, a dead man can’t replace him. Something else he said comes to mind now. I could never raise someone else’s kid, knowing the real parents were out there in the world. Did I force his hand? I imagine him now, heading to the hospital that night with Daniel’s phone on him. Flushing the coloured contact lenses down the toilet. Believing he had committed the perfect crime. Impervious to interrogation, built to survive the toughest environments and prepared to go further than his enemy. I see that tattoo on his chest again. Who Dares Wins.

‘No need to dwell on it now, though. This weekend is about giving the house a proper farewell,’ Claire says.

‘Let’s get that boat in the water after breakfast,’ Axel says, changing the subject.

‘Good idea. We’ll get the bolt cutters out,’ Cain says. ‘You can be the skipper.’

‘Bloody oath I will be.’