Unable to stop myself, I walk over to the sitting room and push the door open, pretending I don’t know he’s on the phone. ‘Did you collect Niamh, Andrew?’ I speak louder than usual, deliberately interrupting.

Turning around, frowning, he points to his phone. I ignore him. ‘Niamh?’

‘Just a moment,’ he mutters into his phone, then covers the mouthpiece with his hand. ‘How dare you!’

‘I would have thought our daughter’s whereabouts would be your highest priority right now.’ I stare at him coolly, my meaning clear. ‘Particularly in light of Hollie’s death. Did you even read my text?’

I’ve caught him out. He hasn’t bothered. ‘One of us needs to go and get her,’ I say pointedly, gazing at the almost empty bottle of wine on the table in front of him. ‘I imagine that’s going to be me.’

I was hoping to have a bath and put on pyjamas, but suddenly I’ve no desire to be in the same house as Andrew. Without waiting for a reply, I walk out to the kitchen and put on my shoes just as a car pulls up outside. Hearing a door slam, dread fills me that it could be the press again, but seconds later, Niamh appears through the door. ‘Mia’s dad dropped me. He said he didn’t mind.’ Her face is brighter than this morning, pink from the cold, her voice lighter and less troubled than it has been in days, weeks even. My stomach churns at how obvious it is that even for a few hours, it’s been good for her to be away from this house.

‘Your father got held up.’ As always, I make an excuse for Andrew’s selfishness. ‘Have you had a good day?’

‘Yeah.’ But at the mention of Andrew, her face clouds over.

‘I’m so sorry he didn’t text you. I only got in a few minutes ago and I was just about to come out and get you.’

‘It’s OK.’

I watch her eyes lower. She knows I’m lying about Andrew, that I’m pretending everything is fine, even though, especially in light of Hollie’s death, Andrew’s selfishness is breath-taking. My stomach twists more tightly. Niamh misses none of it. Two minutes in this house, and the lightness is already leaving her.

*

On Monday morning, life resumes a semblance of normality when Andrew goes to work and Niamh goes to school. For once, there are no harsh words or arguments. Instead, an odd sense of calm pervades the house – one that fills me with unease.

Pulling on a sweatshirt over my running gear, I head out for a run, taking a route that brings me past the Hamptons’ house. There are no lights on in the windows. Closed and dark, the only sign of life is the single police car parked outside.