‘It’s just the way he is.’

‘I looked him up –’

‘When?’

‘Long time ago. When we met.’

‘Background checks?’

‘Like you do.’

‘Sure.’

‘He’s a big-shot developer,’ he said. ‘Did I miss something?’

‘No,’ said Bea. ‘That’s what a big-shot developer looks like.’

He had his T-shirt off, kneeling to undo his trainers, poised like a runner on a track. He did not look tired. She wriggled a little way out of the duvet and sat up.

‘What is it?’ she said.

‘What?’

‘Just say it.’

‘What’s with the private jet?’

‘He had a jet.’

‘Yeah, I got that,’ said Dan. ‘You never told me.’

‘Why would I tell you? Ooh, my dad’s got a jet. So what?’

‘So what? It’s a jet,’ said Dan.

‘Was. He sold it. And?’

‘I didn’t know he had that kind of cash.’

‘Well, he did,’ she said. ‘Lots of people have jets.’

He was still working on the same lace. It wasn’t knotted. ‘No, babe,’ he said, ‘not exactly.’

‘I mean lots of rich people,’ said Bea. ‘What’s the difference?’

He shrugged. ‘Nothing.’ He stood up. He took off both shoes. He went into the bathroom. ‘I just didn’t realise he had that kind of money.’

He shut the door. She got off the bed and went to the door and opened it. He was bending over the basin.

‘Is there a difference, to us?’ she said. ‘Between well off, and rich, and super-rich?’

He turned. ‘No.’

She searched his face. ‘I don’t take his money. You know that. Is it different, now he had a private jet?’

She said it so contemptuously there was only one way to answer.

‘No,’ he said. ‘What’s up with you?’

‘Why? Nothing.’

‘You hate them.’

‘I don’t hate them,’ said Bea. ‘I’m not twelve.’

‘They were terrible parents.’

‘I’m over it.’

‘I mean, your dad is way worse than she is.’

‘He’s not worse. He’s just greedy. He’s ravenous. Nothing is ever enough for him.’

‘And her?’

‘What do you want me to say?’ She almost shouted it.

‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘You want nothing to do with them. I don’t either. We’re cool.’

She could feel him studying her. She felt plain and clumsy. Her heart was cold and hard.

‘Bea.’

‘What?’

‘I’m on your side.’

‘Don’t be silly.’

‘I said, I’m on your side.’

‘I heard.’

‘Babe, I just didn’t know the guy had a jet.’

She managed a laugh. ‘OK.’

In bed, as sleep crept over him, she was wakeful. He was lying behind her. She felt him fall asleep, like he was leaving her alone. His body was there, but he was not.

The hotel was different with her parents in it. She tried to sleep and not listen to the night-time, or think of them there.

At two o’clock she went down to the kitchen for a glass of water; knowing what was up in the roof the kitchen tap seemed safest. She waited as the tap ran cold, filled the glass, and drank, then felt her way back up on tiptoe. Alex’s room was at the top of the stairs, to the right, across a landing. There was a glow under the door. Hearing his voice, she stopped. His tone was urgent. She heard a woman’s voice gently coaxing. Stock still, Bea waited, straining her ears, staring at the strip of light beneath his door.