She peered through the stained glass window towards the pool house, could see light shining from between the ivy leaves. They must be in there with Diana. She didn’t have long.

The first room she went into was Lydia’s. This was where she expected to find the answers to her questions. She was the one who had changed the most and there had to be a reason behind the transformation. A reason why Diana was pursuing her. Helen rummaged under the bed and through her dressing table, but there was nothing. No incriminating evidence. No contraband. Just a regular fourteen-year-old’s bedroom. She found some leaflets in her bedside table offering advice on how to discuss homosexuality openly as a family and she felt a twinge of guilt. Regret. She knew Lydia would not choose to discuss such a thing with her. But then she wasn’t her mother.

She moved on to Matt’s room. Marginally tidier than the last time she was in there. The first thing she looked for was his laptop. Password protected of course. She thought about what mattered to him, how creative he was and typed in the year he was born.

Apparently not that creative after all. The laptop sprung into life, his emails open on the screen. A lot of college-related content. Emails backwards and forwards with Francesca. Except that Francesca hadn’t replied to the last few he had sent. His tone was pleading, almost begging her to let him come and live with her. Helen hadn’t realised he was so unhappy. She doubted Hugh had noticed either. It made her sad to think he didn’t want to be here – and even sadder that Francesca hadn’t answered him. Earlier responses she gave said to stick it out, that the café demanded a lot of her time and her new home with Todd wasn’t big enough for him too. Empty excuses.

If Helen thought Mills was unhappy and reaching out to her, she would grip on and pull her in, arms open wide.

She recognised the same email address she had seen on Hugh’s email. She opened a message dated this morning to see an email from Diana with an attachment.

More photos.

Of Diana and Lydia, giggling, taking selfies. She had been taunting him with her relationship, putting it front and centre. But why? It didn’t make sense. Why did she want to hurt him like that? What had he done to her to deserve that?

She called up his internet history, maybe hoping to answer the question of what he did late into the evening. It was not porn as she had suspected, but a chat room about Fortnite and gaming.

And another offering support for mental health issues. Helen slammed the laptop shut, now feeling like an intruder, the knowledge that he had reached out to strangers for help leaving her feeling filthy with shame.