‘What sort of sick?’ Esther murmured, carefully levering off her boots so as not to get mud on the carpet.

‘What sort do you think? She’s in the bathroom upstairs. Rick’s dealing with it, bless him…’ Esther was already on her way, stowing her footwear on the rack under the coats before taking the stairs two at a time. The bathroom door was wide open, revealing her brother, sleeves rolled up, manfully mopping with a big sponge and a bucket round the base of the toilet. Lily was sitting on the floor, propped limply against the towel rail.

‘She didn’t quite make it in time.’ Rick pulled a face, emptying the bucket into the toilet and then refilling it under the bath taps. ‘Too much bubbly, I think.’

‘Really?’ Esther dropped to her knees, brushing the sticky threads of hair off Lily’s damp face and using a corner of the towel on the rail behind her to wipe away the specks round her mouth.

Lily moaned, shaking her head in resistance to these attentions before suddenly flinging herself at the toilet, cradling the bowl as she retched. ‘Barely drank… the prawns starter maybe…’ She flopped her head down to be sick again, before slumping back against the radiator, tears starting to mingle with the mess on her face. ‘Sorry… yuck… sorry… so gross…’

‘I’ve had it worse,’ Rick assured her cheerily. ‘Food poisoning is hell, especially shellfish. I think it’s related to botulism, which is basically the worst…’ He dried up, as Esther gave him a beady look.

‘In Italy I got sick,’ Lily gasped, through half-sobs, ‘after some… clams… maybe it’s returned.’ She made another lunge for the toilet, but then sat back up as the spasm failed to materialise.

‘I think some more detergent is called for,’ Rick said tactfully, stepping over them and steering Astrid away from the doorway back towards the stairs.

‘Lily, darling, there’s no need to cry.’ Esther slid to the floor beside her, doing her best to shift her into the crook of her arm. ‘Rick is right. Food poisoning is awful, but it never lasts long.’

Lily remained stiff, refusing to nestle. ‘It’s not just that,’ she said dully. ‘It’s Dylan, Mum.’

‘I know, darling, I’ve just been talking to Grandad, we are all desperately—’

‘No.’ Lily shuffled more upright, sliding further along the wall away from Esther. She let her head drop onto her chest and then raised it with a big intake of breath. ‘He made me swear. A few weeks, he said. But now it’s Christmas. It’s Christmas and I’m done.’ Her eyes remained fixed somewhere in the region of the shower attachment behind Esther’s head.

Esther had stood up, finding that some part of her needed to be at a distance in order to bring the momentous thing Lily seemed to be saying into focus. ‘Are you telling me that all this time…?’