Perhaps, I think later, it’s that feeling that makes me do it. It’s the afternoon, and Léa and Luca are playing a word game I created, when I leave them and head down the hall to the toilet in the main bathroom. As I do, I pass Julia and Michel’s bedroom door, which is open a crack, and the glimpse I get of the room inside stops me in my tracks.

My pulse quickens a notch.

I shouldn’t. I don’t know why I want to.

I glance back into the hallway, but no one’s there. I can hear the kids in the lounge, arguing over something trivial. I push open the door, making a mental note of the size of the gap, so I can leave it just so.

The room is big, dominated by a king-size bed in the middle. There’s an armchair in one corner with a jacket draped over it, mirrored wardrobes down one side and a door to what I imagine is an en-suite bathroom on the opposite side. My gaze settles on an antique wooden dressing table covered in perfumes, make-up and hair products. Strands of Julia’s dark hair are caught in a hairbrush. I pick up a perfume bottle and smell her familiar scent. I run my fingers over a necklace of delicate glass beads strung over the corner of the mirror and wonder if Michel bought it for her and why. An anniversary? A holiday gift? Just because?

I slide open the wardrobe door and see her clothes hanging on the rail. I flick through a few hangers. A silk dress. A linen skirt. Several blouses from shops I didn’t think anyone actually bought stuff in. Hermès. Chanel. The labels remind me of that copycat Diane von Furstenburg dress from the seventies that Mum passed on to me a few years back. A classic style that she encouraged me to wear, but that I always felt wasn’t quite right on me. I pick out a bright pink silk top and hold it up against myself in the mirrored door. The colour doesn’t suit me at all. I look washed out. Not like Julia with her flawless olive skin and mahogany hair. I feel a sudden irrational urge to rip the shirt to shreds.

‘Jess!’

My heart jumps into my mouth. What am I doing? I put the shirt back, look around quickly and judge that nothing is out of its place, and then hurry towards the door.

‘Coming!’ I call back and dash out of the room, making sure to leave the door ajar as before. I know, without quite understanding why, that I’ll go in there again some time.