Melissa is draining potatoes at the sink when she enters the kitchen, Charley banging down cutlery on the table. Poppy has a book in her lap but is staring into space, her back leaning against Izzy’s. Izzy and Blake are playing cards; her legs, splayed on either side of him, are covered with mud. Blake is staring at Izzy as though transfixed. Grace puts the suitcase on the floor, drops the backpack on a chair, and peels off her coat.

“Hi there.” Melly puts the potatoes on the table, adding a lump of butter and a scattering of parsley. She seems calm, as though fixing meals for a large group of people is something she does often. “Perfect timing. The children had a nap and I fell asleep, but we’re ready to go now. Gosh, are you okay? You look a bit tired.”

“It’s been a long day. Where’s Martin?”

“He’s around. Paul had to call in to the office; he’s coming back for supper.”

“Where exactly is Martin, Melly?”

“Oh, writing somewhere, I expect.” Melly sounds evasive.

“I’ll search him out. We need to chat before supper, there’s so much—”

“Martin’s upstairs,” Izzy says. “With Eve.”

“I’m starving,” Charley announces in the little silence. “Can we eat now?”

“Could you call your daddy down?” Melissa asks her.

“I’ll get him.” Grace walks out of the kitchen, crosses the hall, and starts up the stairs, aware as she does of the swift patter of feet behind her, then Izzy brushes past, ascends a couple of steps ahead, and turns to face her.

“It might be better if you don’t go upstairs right now.” There is a mixture of sympathy and curiosity in her bright blue eyes.

Grace stares then laughs. “Excuse me, Izzy.” She begins to walk past her but Izzy moves sideways to block her way.

“If this is a game, Izzy, it’s a boring one; please let me pass.”

“You’ve a right to know what’s been happening. I’d better tell you.” Izzy sighs. “No one else will, they’re all too stupid to guess.”

Grace feels cold. The house isn’t heated, which is strange, because Eve can afford to turn the radiators on as high as they will go.

“I’m going upstairs to find Martin,” she says as calmly as she can. “Perhaps you could help your mum with supper.”

“They’re sleeping together.” Izzy’s eyes flicker over Grace’s face.

“Sorry, what?” The words don’t make sense straightaway, though Grace’s heart beats so fast she feels dizzy.

“They’ve been sleeping together since Greece, in the afternoons when he was supposed to be at the library; I heard them. They were making these noises, so—”

“I expect you made a mistake.” Grace is gripping the banister tightly. “Eavesdroppers often do.”

“I saw them.” Izzy lifts her phone in front of Grace’s eyes. Her movement is swift, there isn’t time to look away. The image is startlingly clear; Izzy has been bought the best kind of phone available. The photo was taken from above and the side, but the shape of her husband’s naked back and shoulders is unmistakable; his head is turned sideways, revealing the familiar profile of his nose. Eve is beneath him, instantly recognizable as well, although her eyes are closed; they are lying on the carpet.