TWENTY-NINE
Steve sat at the kitchen table, head down, stirring a spoon through his untouched cornflakes. Bea and Amy chased each other around the compact room, squealing with delight but Steve, oblivious, barely looked up.
“Girls, for goodness sake!”
Everyone stopped and Steve did not look up at the sound of the voice, not needing to, and not wishing to look into her face. Sam’s mother came in, shaking her head. Bea jumped up and down, clapping her hands as she squealed, “Nanny, can we go and play in the summerhouse?”
Steve laughed at that. Summerhouse? The rain beat down as he looked out across the expanse of lawn, everything washed out and depressed, towards the timber-framed summerhouse in the distance. “You’ll be soaked before you even get to it.”
“Please, Nanny!”
“All right, bu
