“It would be wonderful,” Melissa hears herself saying a little breathlessly. “Izzy would love it, so would I, actually.” She senses rather than sees Paul sit up in his chair; she looks at Eve instead, conscious she is accepting the offer without discussing it with him first.

“Astonishingly generous.” Martin smiles at Eve. “Charley and Blake would never forgive us if we didn’t accept.” Then he glances at Grace. “We’ll need to work it out, of course.”

“You go. I can’t, obviously.” Grace’s voice is very even. “I have to book time off months in advance.”

“I’ve a ridiculous number of air miles saved up,” Eve puts in swiftly. “I’ll help with plane tickets.”

“It all sounds too good to be true.” Martin turns to Eve, grinning ruefully. “I confess I’ve been seduced by the thought of writing under those olive trees.”

Melissa dares a glance at Paul; his face is bland, which means he’s thinking fast. He’s seen Izzy with her friends; if he wants her with him on holiday, he’ll have realized he’ll have to share.

“If you’ll let me contribute, we’d be delighted to accept.” Despite the slight slurring, he sounds sincere.

“Okay, thanks.” Eric nods.

“We just have to persuade Grace now.” Eve’s eyes shine as if in triumph.

Melissa glances at Grace, but she is staring down into the garden again. If she feels unhappy, she’s hiding it, but then it’s easy to hide your feelings, she does it herself all the time. Perhaps Grace is wondering where her children are. The dancing figures have disappeared. The bonfire has almost gone out; a little breeze has come up. Eric walks around the table to stand behind Eve; his hand is on his wife’s shoulder but he’s looking at Grace. “You should come if you can. Is it too late to swap holidays at work?”

“Oh yes, please try.” Eve leans forward. “You’d enjoy it so much.”

“It’s not a question of enjoyment.” Grace’s glittering warrior look has gone; she sounds exhausted. The things she isn’t saying float between them, the stark, simple things. She earns the money; someone has to pay the bills.

“Let’s hope you can manage to get some time off.” Eve reaches across the table as if to touch her hand, but at that moment the light breeze strengthens and the candles flutter then extinguish. For a second everything vanishes, it’s as though each is alone in the dark. Eric steps into the house, a switch is flicked, and lanterns on the wall light up. The table springs into view, cluttered with smeared plates and chunks of drying bread. There is a forest of empty wine bottles. The leftover meat on the barbecue is darkly charred. Melissa puts her hand to her growling stomach. It had been so easy to eat nothing this evening; Eve had been preoccupied and hadn’t noticed. Now it’s an effort not to seize a hunk of bread and cram it into her mouth. At that moment the children reappear. Sorrel first, dragging her feet, her eyes swollen. She is missing her skirt. Poppy is pale-faced and silent, hiccupping a little. They wind themselves around Eric.