He was standing over her, almost leaning into her so that she was pushed up against the front door. “But you’ve been hanging out in Lydia’s room all night. I haven’t seen you.”

“She wanted me to do makeovers and stuff – and she’s a sweet kid. You should spend more time with her yourself. I think she’s lonely.”

Helen was thrilled at the thought that perhaps their little love affair was losing its sparkle and shine already.

“Seriously, Matt, it’s like you want to monopolise my time. I need space to breathe.” She put a hand on his chest and pushed him away from her, but he closed the small gap again, towering over her.

“Right, space. You need space,” he said, his voice rising. “Fine, have all the fucking space you want.”

“Don’t be like that, Matt. You’re a good friend and I enjoy hanging out with you.”

Ouch.

Helen felt uncomfortable listening in, so she stepped towards the kitchen doors, stared out into the night instead, at the rain racing down the glass.

The garden was dark, with only muted lighting here and there to cast circles of illumination into the night. Movement caught her eye and she stood up a little straighter. Down towards the far end, an adjustment of the light against the dark, a shape sticking to the shadows. She reached for the handle, just as she heard the front door open, feet walking quickly across the gravel and then the door slam shut.

She hesitated, torn between seeing if anyone was outside and checking in on Matt. She turned away from the garden. It was probably nothing anyway.

She grabbed a tea towel on her way out of the kitchen and pretended to wipe her hands unnecessarily. Matt was standing with his hands splayed on the heavy wooden front door, his head bowed.

“Has Diana gone? Does she need a lift somewhere?”

“She’s fine,” he said without lifting his head.

“But it’s dark and wet out there. You normally take her home, don’t you.” She knew she was pushing.

He shoved away from the door, pulled himself up to his full height. “She’s a big girl, she’ll be fine,” he growled.

Helen lifted her hands in surrender. He stalked off into the family room. The television blared into life.

Against her better judgement, she followed him. He was stretched out on the largest of the two couches, an arm flung over his forehead, the remote control pointed at the television as channel after channel flicked past.

“Are you ok, Matt? Did you have an argument?”

“No.”

“It sounded to me like you did.”

“Then you shouldn’t have been listening. Again. You’re making a nasty habit of that.”

“Look, Matt, maybe it’s for the best. She seems… I don’t know…”

He sat up suddenly, anger flaring his cheeks red. “She seems what?”

Damaged.