‘You arrogant sod.’

Douglas grabs him by his shirt and propels him back on to his chair. He leans over, and I see spittle on Tim’s face as Douglas hisses, ‘Am I making myself clear?’

‘Get off him,’ Cora shrieks. ‘You leave him alone.’

‘Douglas.’ I try to pull him away, but his sinews are like iron rope. ‘Stop it, for Christ’s sake.’

Douglas lets go, turning away and brushing his hands against his black jeans, as if to remove something unpleasant.

‘It’s nice when your ex-lovers rally round, isn’t it?’ Cora says sarcastically. ‘I’m sure my son would be grateful.’

I glare at her. ‘I’ve put up with your snide comments for long enough. The only reason you’re worried is because of Nick’s money. You’ve been sponging off him. You got our house valued.’ Years of pent-up resentment come gushing out. ‘You’re a vulture.’

‘I despise you,’ Cora says. ‘I’ve despised you since the first time I saw you.’

I look her up and down. ‘The feeling is mutual.’

Tim turns with a groan. ‘Cora, I think we should leave.’

‘Stop being so weak and back me up,’ Cora snaps.

Douglas catches my eye and I scowl, but he smiles. He likes what’s happening, gets a kick at seeing those two at each other’s throats. He picks up his keys and strolls out of the room.

‘What did you say to him?’ I ask at the door.

‘Shh,’ he says.

‘No, I will not ‘shh’. Tell me.’

‘I hinted that I knew what he was.’

‘Douglas. I told you not to say anything.’

‘He was manhandling my daughter. What did you expect me to do?’

Once he’s gone, I come back into the room to find Cora sobbing – an ugly, grating noise. Tim has his arms around her and is talking to her gently. I don’t know why the sight of Tim demonstrating love to Cora should be such a shock, but it is. I rebuke myself; just because I don’t love her, doesn’t mean no one else can.

‘I’m so sorry about that,’ I say.

‘I don’t think it was a personal best for any of us,’ Tim responds with a smile. ‘Why don’t you go and check Lottie’s OK?’

I grimace. ‘I hope she didn’t hear.’

Toffee follows me upstairs and sits obediently outside her bedroom door while I wait for an answer to my knock. There is none. I call her name, and then knock a second time and tell myself that she has her earphones in. I feel a deep sense of unease as I open the door. Her bed is rumpled, but empty. I try her bathroom, but she’s not there either. I lean over the banister and shout her name. No response. I run downstairs and burst into the kitchen.

‘I can’t find Lottie.’

GRACE

Monday, 30 April 2018