“Joely is allergic to bee stings then; Ash isn’t. You mustn’t worry.”

Ash’s eyes are shut, his fingers starfish on her breast. A cool shadow falls on her skin and Martin smiles down at her, grasping a sheaf of papers in ink-stained fingers. He sits on the wall beside her, comforting and disconcerting at the same time.

“Go and swim with the others, darling.” She pats Sorrel on her bottom. “Ash is fine now.”

Sorrel walks slowly to the pool and hesitates at the edge, gazing at the others in the water, uncertain.

“It’s the easiest way to make him better.” Eve stares down at Ash, embarrassed to meet Martin’s eyes.

“I’m in favor.” He leans forward. “Grace stopped after six weeks; shame really. Actually . . .” He studies a little marbled butterfly hovering at his feet. “She’s joining us in a couple of days, if that’s okay; a colleague’s holiday was postponed so she swapped her slot with Grace.”

“I know, she emailed me,” Eve replies. “I’m thrilled she can come.”

Martin rests his hand lightly on Ash’s head. “Has he said any more words?”

“A few—‘Mum,’ ‘tractor,’ ‘dog’; words like that, but he says them properly as though they’ve been in his head all the time, just waiting to emerge.”

“This is just the beginning, the trickle before the flood; there’s everything to look forward to.”

She meets his eyes and finds herself unable to look away; the moment stretches until Sorrel jumps in the pool, splashing water over Ash, who jerks off the nipple and starts to cry. Martin spreads a towel under the trees a few feet back. He waits for her to settle with Ash, then sits down so closely that his shoulder brushes hers. She can smell tobacco and ink; the pages of his manuscript rustle as he reads. The peace is hypnotic. Her eyes close but snap open again as icy drops of water fall on her breast.

“Swim?” Eric is leaning over her, addressing Martin, who scrambles to his feet.

“Sure, great.”

“You’ll find trunks in the shed.” Eric tilts his head at the stone building.

“Brilliant, thanks.” Martin walks away, smiling brightly.

Eric sits on the towel and ruffles Ash’s hair, his tanned hand beaded with water. “How is he now?”

“All better. Did I tell you that Grace is joining us in a couple of days’ time?”

Martin emerges from the shed; the shorts he is wearing are too small. His body is pale in the bright light, well built, surprisingly powerful. The broad chest is streaked with gray hair. Eric glances at her; she looks down at Ash.

“I’m glad,” Eric says. “She must need a break.”

“I expect she’s revelling in the peace and quiet.”

“Unlikely. She’s stuck at a shit job, below her capabilities, so her family can have the things they think they need, including holidays.” Eric’s voice becomes quieter when he’s angry.

She watches Martin dive into the pool and emerge, his face creased in a large grin. Sorrel squeals. Charley swims up, hugs her father, and climbs on his back; he is laughing so much he struggles to swim. Izzy climbs out and walks away; Poppy gets out and runs after her and, after a moment, Blake gets out too and follows.