She should of course have been rushing there. After her conversation with David, she’d made it out of school well before 4pm, and she could have been dashing in glorious pleasure to the new house with the perfectly designed kitchen, and the duck feather-filled sofa; their city haven. But at this time of day George wasn’t yet home, and the neighbours were.

The noise hadn’t abated. Not in five days. Music and television blared through the walls, the man’s voice often accompanying it in obnoxious, yobbish tenor, and after George’s appeal to them, the fact of this felt like a deliberate two fingers up. When she was on her own, there was an intimidating flavour to this, even behind brick, and often Veronica found herself thinking about how very much worse it might be on the other side of the wall. Veronica hadn’t mentioned her unease to George. She didn’t want to burden him with another thing he would be unable to fix. But she couldn’t fix it either, not the neighbours and not the way she felt. More than anything, she dreaded the sound of the baby.

Veronica was standing in the snacks aisle contemplating this, as well as what she would prepare for the dinner party with Sarah, when the boy, Dominic, walked in. He didn’t see her. Hands in his pockets, he paced purposefully towards the counter where the lady serving was busily talking to a French customer about a spate of bicycle thefts. As he joined the queue, Dominic’s narrow eyes darted around the shop. Veronica wondered if he had been home from school yet, or if he, like she, was avoiding the inevitable. She wondered too, for the millionth time, why since the night of the thuds, she had still not seen, or heard, his mother. Every morning that week, she’d asked herself if she should be doing something, telling someone. Over the years, it was a question she’d asked more than once before. But she still hadn’t managed an answer. Her week had been consumed: by her new job, by the surprise of her encounter with Sarah, by George, by Amelia, and by the usual, empty-belly longing. Besides, it wasn’t her business, she’d told herself.

Veronica took a step forward. Joining the queue behind Dominic, she tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Hello there.”

The boy looked up jumpily, and at the sight of her he sunk his hands further into his pockets, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Just like the first time they’d met, Veronica couldn’t help picturing a meerkat, or a squirrel, something feral and angst-ridden – ready at a moment’s notice to leap in any direction, at once timid and threatening. “Hi,” he muttered.

“What are you after then?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged. “Just something for my mum.”

Veronica noticed the boy’s lack of basket. “That’s nice of you.” The queue moved forward a little and Veronica and Dominic shuffled their feet accordingly. “Is she okay, your mum? I haven’t seen her for a few days.”