But Becca was a bit different. For a start, she was one of the least judgmental people I’d ever met – it was a big part of the reason I liked her so much. Supremely self-confident, she assumed everyone else had the same breezy attitude to life and all its challenges as she did. I knew she’d cope effortlessly with whatever mood Angus was in, and this helped me feel more relaxed myself. It was so simple when I looked at it in these dispassionate terms; I don’t know why it was so hard to carry it out in practice.

In keeping with this theory, I’d brought a couple of bottles of wine with me on the train, which Becca was keen to help me demolish. I’d never enjoyed the journey so much before; the two of us swigging wine and eating peanuts, swapping stories and giggling. I arranged for us to get a taxi from the station, so I knew there would be no awkward journey home with Angus. We’d arrive at dinner time, which would mean we’d all have something to do other than talk. It was all going to be fine, I told myself as I sloshed the last of the first bottle into our glasses.

“Bloody hell,” said Becca several hours later, as the taxi pulled up in front of the house. “It’s huge. You never told me it was going to be so big.”

I was pierced by the memory of Jessica's reaction on first seeing Caernaven. It made me struggle for words but, after a second, I managed to make some flippant comment. I paid the taxi driver and we clambered out, retrieving our cases from the boot.

Becca stood for a moment, taking in the monolith that was the front of the house, then turning to survey the view.

"Lovely spot," she said. "And you grew up here, you lucky thing. I grew up in Croydon, for God's sake. There's no comparison."

"Oh well," I said, rather awkwardly. I never knew what to say when people said things like that. "Let's go inside and get a drink."

Angus opened the front door as I put my hand out towards the handle.

"Angus, this is Becca, my friend. Rebecca, I mean."

“Pleased to meet you,” said Becca. He gave her a look I couldn’t decipher but shook her hand and smiled.

“Welcome, Rebecca. How was your journey?”

He put a hand on the small of her back, steering her through the front door. I gathered up as many bags as I could and struggled after them. Becca had stopped in the middle of the hallway and was exclaiming over the staircase.

“I’ll just dump these here,” I panted and let most of the bags fall with a thump. "I'll take you up to your room later." I turned to Angus. "I thought Becca could go in the Blue Room?"

He was already walking away and waved a hand at me.

"I'm sure that’s fine. Come and join us for a drink when you're ready."

Us? I stopped lugging Becca's suitcase across the floor.

"You alright?" said Becca.

I immediately put a smile back on my face. "No problem. Sorry about Ang - my father - he's sometimes a bit preoccupied. Don't take it personally."

"I hadn't," said Becca. "Taken what?"

I shrugged and rolled my eyes. "Oh nothing," I said. "Forget it. Let's go and get a drink, shall we?"

We made our way to the drawing room, Becca exclaiming all the while about the house, the antiques, the art and the sculptures. "So beautiful," she kept saying, lingering at one thing or the other until I virtually had to push her through the door of the room. I was sniggering under my breath at our childishness and it took me a few moments to notice that Angus was indeed not alone. Sitting very close to him on one of the couches was a young woman, almost as young as I was, with a cloud of soft brown hair and a very red mouth.

"Oh," I said, nonplussed. Then I collected myself. "Hello."

"This is Theresa," said Angus. He got up from beside the girl and moved towards the drinks cabinet. "Teresa, this is my daughter, Maudie, and her friend, Rebecca."

We all shook hands and there was a moment's awkward silence, then Becca stepped into the breach.

"How do you know Angus?" she asked.

Carnally, was my guess. I’d been wondering recently whether he had some new woman on the go – when something like this was starting up he became even more distant, and I’d noticed his usual phone calls to me had become even more sporadic. Theresa looked a little uncomfortable. I wondered whether she'd been told we were coming.

"I'm a teacher at Katherine College," she said. Becca and I made encouraging noises but she didn't seem to have much more to say. Angus brought us over some drinks.

“How long have you been teaching?” asked Becca.

“Not long,” said Theresa. “This is my first job.”

“What a surprise,” I murmured. I must have said it a little too loudly as she glared at me.

"Theresa will be joining us for dinner," said Angus. He put a hand on her waist, just a little too close to her backside. I had to look away. "We'll sit down at seven."

"Will we be dressing for dinner?" said Becca, grinning. I began to smile and then saw Angus's face. He didn't get it. He gave me a look.

“That would be lovely, Rebecca,” he said. “But I’m sure what you’re wearing would be quite adequate.”

I snorted and got another look. Teresa was looking out of the window, or at least towards the window. I didn’t think she was thinking of anything much.

The silence stretched out uncomfortably.

“Well, I’d better show Becca to her room,” I said eventually. Angus nodded and we were dismissed. I’m not sure Teresa noticed we were going.

Becca and I both hefted a case and headed for the stairs.

“God,” said Becca when we were halfway up a flight. “Your dad likes them young.”

I shivered. “Don’t.”

“Sorry,” she said. There was a moment’s pause. “This house is truly amazing. I can’t believe you grew up here.”

“Well, I was at boarding school for some of it,” I said. We had reached the Blue Room. “Here you go. The loo’s just across the corridor.”

Becca walked in and looked around. “It’s amazing. Thanks.” She gave me a quick look I couldn’t quite decipher. “I was only joking about dressing for dinner.”

“God, I know that,” I said. I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry about my father, anyway. He’ll be too taken up with what’s her name to pay us much attention, you’ll see.”

In that, I was wrong. When we came down for dinner, I could see Angus had switched into charming mode. Perhaps he was bored with Teresa – and I could quite see why – or perhaps he’d become aware of his previous shortcomings. He talked a lot to Becca and sometimes to me. Teresa pushed her food around the plate in a sulky manner. I tried to talk to her but gave up after a while.

I’d thought she’d leave after dinner but again I was wrong. We went back into the drawing room for coffee.

I may have over done it a bit on the booze that night, I’m prepared to admit. I was wound up and anxious; hoping Becca was enjoying herself, trying to please Angus, trying to alternately include Teresa or ignore her as politely as possible.

It meant I had to get up in the middle of the night, my bladder almost bursting. I was staggering down the corridor when I heard the sounds, sounds so immediately strange that at first I thought I was dreaming. I’d been dreaming when I woke up, thick tangled dreams of wolves and forests and these were sounds straight out of the dream; feral, rough animal sounds. In my befuddled state, it took me a moment to realise what they were, and that they were coming from Angus’s bedroom.

I managed to get to the bathroom before vomiting. At least I managed to do that. My croaks and gasps drowned out the noises Angus and Teresa were making and when I’d finished vomiting, my tears and sobs were able to drown them out too. I went back to my room and lay rigid, my fingers in my ears, trying not to hear, listening to the thunder of my heartbeat and the gallop of blood in my veins.