‘You said you’d show me your work. Do you remember?’ Liv was saying. Everything she said was banal yet weighted. ‘It’s such a shame we don’t see more of you.’

‘Yeah,’ said Dan. ‘Sorry.’

‘Hey, Dan,’ said Alex, ‘you could work out here if you like. The barn is empty. You could turn it into a studio –’

‘Thanks,’ said Dan.

Bea thought he looked nothing more than embarrassed. She sat down again. He didn’t catch her eye.

Griff picked up the carving knife. ‘Greasy,’ he said.

‘Sorry,’ said Alex automatically.

Griff wiped it with his napkin and threw the napkin down.

‘First thing tomorrow morning I’m going to get some candles,’ said Liv, shuddering. ‘This light is awful. When we were here in March it didn’t matter, we ate inside.’

‘Bea,’ said Alex, ‘where did we leave the lamp? We’ve got a lamp.’

‘No, no, darling,’ said Liv. ‘You relax.’

Griff patted Bea’s arm. ‘Sorry I snapped at you before. Low blood sugar.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Bea.

‘A few beautiful things will make so much difference,’ said Liv to the table, then turned to Alex. ‘We just need to really go for it, Alex. This place could be fantastic.’

‘I know,’ said Alex. ‘It could.’

Griff carved the chicken. ‘Needn’t bother with a knife,’ he said, ‘could do it with a spoon.’

Chicken and potatoes were doled out. Conversation overlaid the tension, like call-centre hold music. Dan watched Bea’s family in action. He had googled his father-in-law. He knew he was rich and seen he had an ego on him when they had met, but nothing prepared him for this. From the moment they got out of the car and started talking about private jets he had begun to lose his bearings. Before, Bea’s family money had been notional, he could forget it, but seeing them now, rich was all they were. Everything they did and everything they said radiated it. She had let the facts out gradually, like a trickle of change. Now it was a steady stream. The jet. New York, the apartment. That gallery I bought you. I said we might see them in Cortina. The cars. Quicker. Easier. Gorgeous. Get.

‘Griff,’ said Liv. She had a way of emphasising names and places, that was intimate and drawling. ‘Didn’t Joe Kaminski start out camping in Marina Foster’s barn, in Gloucestershire?’

The conversation swept over him in an opiate tide. He felt Bea take his hand under the table. He closed his fingers over hers.

‘You remember, Griff,’ said Liv. ‘When he dropped out of Bristol. Now look at him. Such a sweet boy. We had some of his early pieces at my little gallery – you know, to help him out. See, Dan, you could be the next Joe Kaminski.’

Completely wrapped in the duvet with just her head showing, Bea watched Dan undress.

‘You cold?’ he said.

‘No.’

‘What’s all that, with your dad?’ said Dan. ‘All that Do you know who I am?’