The girls brighten when Martin arrives with Charley and Blake. Poppy takes them on a little tour of the equipment, pointing out the smooth joints and bright colors of the house, proud of her father’s work. Charley hangs upside down from the bars, her hair touching the ground; Sorrel laughs, clapping her hands. Blake careers down the slide, Ash on his lap.

“Grace can’t make it after all.” Martin’s eyes follow his son as he carries Ash up the steps and down the slide again. “She’s waiting for the plumber; the washing machine broke down, tonight of all nights.”

Eve can see he believes what he’s been told though she recognizes an excuse, a lie. She gives him a flute of champagne and they tip glasses. He laughs aloud with pleasure as she knew he would when he hears about Ash’s first word. Eric glances over from the barbecue and then back to the coals, his expression unreadable.

Melissa and Paul arrive with a huge bunch of flowers in crackling cellophane. Izzy is wearing ripped jeans and a T-shirt; Poppy glances at her friend and quickly wipes the glitter from her cheeks. Paul looks elegant in white linen, a leather bag slung over his shoulder; Melissa is stunning in a silk trouser suit with a matching scarf. Paul propels his wife forward, one hand on her elbow, another at her back. A perfect couple, as handsome as film stars, though when Melissa hands Eve the flowers, Eve sees there is a mark under the creamy foundation, a dark swelling like a bruise on her right cheekbone.

“Stupid me; I slipped in the flower shop,” Melissa explains with a little laugh. “The floor was wet.”

“Oh, poor Melly.”

“I bought this for Ash,” she says quickly, handing him a little teddy in a sparkly blue waistcoat; he hugs it to his neck, his eyes disappearing in a wide smile.

“Just look at this food!” Melissa’s gaze sweeps the table hungrily as she takes in the piles of little pies, gleaming slices of salmon, bowls of salad, thick slabs of homemade bread studded with olives. Both women watch Paul as he produces bottles of ginger beer from his bag, deftly unscrews the tops, and hands one to each child with a low bow.

“You have a very clever daddy,” he tells Ash, shaking the small hand. “He did good work for me too.” Ash stares at him wide-eyed, Sorrel giggles.

“May I have a grand tour?” he asks her; she takes his hand, pulling him over the bark chips to the little swing. Eve glances at Melissa, smiling. She hadn’t realized Paul could be so charming to children, but Melissa is staring at her husband, her face expressionless. The fall must have shaken her up; beneath the glamour she seems tired, a little fragile. Eve turns back to watch Paul swinging back and forth with Sorrel by his side and Ash on his lap.

“Excellent!” Paul puts Ash down, kisses Sorrel swiftly on the head, and climbs the steps to the veranda. He joins Eric at the barbecue, handing him another beer and chatting as he pokes at the food with a fork. Eric adjusts the coals, lays out the steaks, and turns the sausages. Eve watches, interested. This is probably what happened when they worked together in Paul’s garden: the older man talking, Eric getting on with the job at hand. It seems to work; they look comfortable together.