“What on earth is going on?” Helen shouted as she waded between them.

Matt and Lydia fell silent.

Helen noticed Clive peep his head out from the kitchen doorway where he was hiding in his bed. He woofed once and returned to his safe haven.

“Matt? Lydia?”

They both started shouting at each other again, Helen not able to make sense of the words, but the name Diana came up.

Lydia managed to get the last word in by saying, “He’s a filthy fucking liar,” just as Hugh stepped into the house.

He roared, “Enough! Everyone, to your rooms!” in an unusual display of authority.

Matt and Lydia glared at each other once more before Lydia stomped past Mills and up the stairs. Matt sloped off after her.

Mills remained on the stairs, shovelling in popcorn, her face a mask of amusement.

“Mills, what was that about?” Helen asked, shocked at the sudden display of ferocity she had seen in Lydia.

Mills shrugged. “Dunno, but it kept me entertained.” She sniggered.

“Amelia, go!” Hugh said.

She rolled her eyes and disappeared upstairs.

Helen ran a hand through her hair. “Wow. I don’t—”

But Hugh just pushed past her into his study and closed the door.

She stood in the hallway, alone, anger on a simmer.

Hands clenched, she exhaled and followed, not waiting to knock as she stormed into the study. “Are we going to talk about this?”

“Talk about what?” He was staring at his computer screen, his mouth tight.

“What’s going on! The kids, Lydia, us.”

“Teenage hormones, that’s all.”

“And us?”

He looked up then. “Helen, I have more important things to worry about than whether you have fired one of your staff and what goes on in the grounds of your house. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“On a Friday evening?”

“Yes.” He looked back at his computer, the conversation clearly over.

She glowered at the top of his head. He ignored her presence.

She left, slamming the door behind her.

*

Helen slept restlessly, images of Sally and Peter doing a dance in her head. Hugh didn’t come to bed. She woke too early the next morning with gritty eyes, a dull head and the smell of sour cream on her pillow. She stood under a hot shower for longer than necessary, just letting the hot water pour over her.

She knew she had to do something about Peter. If he was spreading rumours about her, it would harm her business, her family life, everything. What she couldn’t work out was how he connected to Diana, if they were in on it together. Was this really all about money? It just seemed so tacky.

She sat on the side of the bed, towel drying her hair. Her phone buzzed on her bedside table and she turned it over to see an email notification for the shop’s email account.