‘I was thinking about you on the drive home today, about how strong you are. Sorry.’ He suddenly looks embarrassed. ‘I’m not very good at mushy stuff but I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you, how much I love you.’

‘It’s not mushy. I need to hear it.’

‘Then I should say it more often, shouldn’t I?’ He kisses me softly on the lips and one of his hands slips down to my waist. He pulls me against him as the kiss becomes deeper and I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back. I close my eyes as months of fear, frustration and exhaustion slip away and I lose myself in the embrace. His hands slide from my waist to the sides of my breasts and down to my bum. I tip back my head as his mouth travels from my lips to my neck and a low groan rumbles from the base of his throat.

A scream from upstairs makes us jump apart.

‘What the fuck?’ Mark leaves the room first, sprinting down the hallway and up the stairs, taking them two at a time as I tug my bra strap back over my shoulder and follow after him.

‘Weekend break?’ Jake shouts. ‘You want me to go on holiday when some filthy pervert has done God knows what to my brother? How fucked up are you to even suggest that?’

‘Jake!’ I shout. ‘It wasn’t Kira’s idea. It was mine. I – Kira!’ I reach for her as she shoves her way past me on the stairs. ‘Kira, wait!’

I run after her and grab her wrist as she yanks at the back door handle.

‘Get off me!’ She pulls away, her eyes red-rimmed. Streaks of black eye make-up reach down to her jaw. ‘Please, Claire. Please. Just let me go.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘I don’t know.’ She pulls at the door handle. ‘Everything’s fucked up. I’m fucked up. Jake was right.’

‘He’s not. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re a kind and thoughtful girl, a good girl.’

‘No, I’m not.’ Her hand falls from the door handle but she keeps her back to me. ‘My dad used to say I was a good girl. He used to tell me every day how proud he was of me and how much he loved me. It didn’t stop him from killing himself though, did it?’

All the hairs on my arms go up. ‘Oh my God, Kira. I had no idea.’

‘I’m going to Amy’s house,’ she says, her voice a monotone.

It takes me half an hour to talk Jake out of his festering pit of a room and down to the living room where Mark is sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands.

‘Where’s Kira?’ Jake says, looking towards the kitchen. ‘I need to talk to her.’