Attempting to calm down, Mark selected some soothing music as he drove around for a little while before going home. Chopin’s ‘Piano Sonata No. 2’, though, served only to heighten his anger and frustration. Was he being monitored on overhead cams by Cummings, he wondered, for whatever perverse reason that would no doubt become clear? Probably. Bastard. Blowing out a frustrated sigh, Mark selected Vaughan Williams’ ‘The Lark Ascending’ instead – one of Evie’s favourites – and tried to get some perspective on his life. Edwards was right, of course. He wasn’t capable of doing his job. Mark dearly wished he hadn’t dragged him over the coals in earshot of that wanker Cummings though, who would probably get off on it.

He was exhausted, weary to his bones. He needed to do as Edwards had advised and take some time. He was no use to anyone like this. At least he wasn’t being put on ‘voluntary’ gardening leave for the foreseeable future, as he’d half expected to be. That was something.

Feeling more in control, Mark turned for home. He couldn’t help wishing it felt more like a home, that he could turn the clock back, or forward. That he could make this whole mess go away. He couldn’t. No one could. All he could do was be there. And he would be. If Mel was fighting, he’d fight alongside her.

Mel’s car wasn’t there, he noticed as he pulled up, which meant that Jade and the kids weren’t back yet. That was good. As much as he loved his children, it would be nice for Mel and him to have some space.

Mark parked up and let himself in, and his heart nose-dived. Cosy conversation wasn’t going to happen, he realised, any more than dinner was. Clangs and curses were coming from the kitchen, followed by ‘For God’s sake, Hercules, get out of the way!’ Mark headed in that direction, stopping confounded in the doorway as a scene of utter chaos greeted him.

‘Mel?’ he said. The first thing he noticed was the open red wine bottle on the island, half empty, he noted, his heart plummeting further. Warily, he turned his gaze towards Mel, who appeared to be fishing wormlike spaghetti from the overflowing sink. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked, trying hard to reserve judgement.

‘This bloody house happened!’ Mel swiped her hair from her face, clanged the colander on the drainer, and turned to glare at him. ‘The bloody sink’s blocked up. I told you the plumbing was packing up. Everything’s packing up. Hercules! Get out!’ She scowled down at the dog, who was helping herself to the spaghetti on the floor.

Mark’s heart skipped a beat as Mel grabbed her roughly by the collar and attempted to drag her out.

‘Jesus, Mel, don’t.’ Mark stepped in, herding Hercules towards the back door. ‘She’s just doing what dogs do.’

‘Yes, scavenging!’ Mel snapped, dropping down to scrape up the spilled spaghetti. ‘Because you didn’t take her to training lessons, because you were too busy working! As usual. She’s been asleep in the middle of the kitchen floor for the last hour. I’ve had to keep walking around her while I’m trying to cook. She’s completely out of control.’

What? Mark definitely couldn’t get his head around that one. The demands of work meant he’d missed one or two sessions, but the dog had been to training lessons. Not eating spaghetti off the floor hadn’t been covered, but he decided for the sake of argument not to point that out. Christ! About to help her clean up, he headed fast for the gas hob instead, where he realised there was a pan close to catching fire.

‘Shit!’ he cursed, grabbing the handle without thinking and then dropping it as fast as he’d picked it up. It landed with a crash, spewing the contents across the ceramic tiles to add to the mess already there.

Mel looked up sharply. ‘Why in God’s name did you do that?’

‘It was hot!’ Dammit. Shaking his scalded hand, Mark headed for the sink to run it under the cold tap. He cursed silently when he realised he couldn’t.

‘Are you hurt?’ Mel asked, concerned now she’d realised he’d hurt himself.

Mark reached for the tea towel, wetting it and wrapping it around his hand. ‘No,’ he said tightly, turning to face her. ‘Have you been drinking?’

Mel shook her head, confounded. ‘What?’

Mark looked at the ceiling, willing himself not to lose it. ‘The wine?’ He nodded towards the bottle.

Cocking her head to one side, Mel studied him curiously. ‘It’s one you opened. I put a spoonful in the bolognaise sauce. Would you like to breathalyse me? Scrape some up from the floor and get your forensics team to test it?’

Great. Mark blew out a long breath. ‘Mel…’ He stepped towards her. ‘I’m sorry. I just…’

‘Assumed?’ Mel finished.

Sighing, Mark nodded wearily. ‘Wrongly,’ he admitted. ‘I’m sorry. I…’ He trailed off, not sure what else to say.

Mel studied him a second longer. ‘So am I,’ she said disappointedly, pulling her unimpressed gaze away from his and walking into the hall.

---

Mark had cleaned up, fetched his toolbox, and was about to investigate the situation under the sink when Jade and the kids arrived, Poppy chattering excitedly as they bustled through the front door. About her teacher’s big belly, Mark gathered, as they came towards the kitchen.

‘But how did the baby get in there?’

Mark winced as he heard her ask.

‘Little baby Jesus put it there to keep safe and cosy until it’s fully grown,’ Jade answered smartly.

‘Like we put Dory in the fish bowl to keep safe and cosy till she’s grown?’ Poppy asked.

‘Just like that.’

Well done, Jade, Mark thought, smiling as the babysitter and her charges arrived in the kitchen. He wasn’t sure how he would have fielded that one.

‘Daddeee!’ Poppy did her usual and flew over to him, regardless of the under-sink paraphernalia Mark had in each hand.

‘Hi, gorgeous girl. How was your day at school?’

‘Good.’ Poppy nodded, unhooking herself from his neck and allowing him to straighten up. ‘We felt Miss Winters’ tummy. It’s huge!’

So were Poppy’s eyes. Mark couldn’t help but laugh.

‘They’re learning about the birds and bees early,’ Jade said, as she lowered Evie carefully down in her carrier.

‘God, I hope not.’

‘The child-friendly version, I think.’ Jade smiled as she walked over to him, and then frowned as she peered in the sink. ‘Oh.’ She eyed him sympathetically.

Mark shrugged, feeling for Mel. He owed her one hell of an apology. He just hoped she’d accept it, once he’d unblocked the sink and sorted out an alternative to spaghetti bolognaise.

‘What’s for dinner?’ Poppy stood on tiptoe and peered into the sink.

‘Takeaway McDonald’s,’ Jade said, steering her away. ‘You can come with me to fetch it.’

‘Yay!’ Poppy whooped, obviously all in favour of that.

Mark breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks, Jade,’ he said, feeling indebted, yet again.

‘No problem,’ Jade assured him. ‘I’ll take Evie too. She’s not due a feed for another hour or so. We should be back by then.’

Grateful, Mark went back to the under-sink cupboard. ‘Fuck,’ he uttered, extracting something that didn’t belong there.

‘Daddy!’ Poppy whirled around. ‘That’s a really naughty word.’

‘I, er… It is. An extremely bad word. Sorry, Poppet. I banged my head.’ He smiled tightly, his eyes travelling to Jade, who’d clearly gathered the reason for him cursing out loud.

‘Oh no!’ Looking alarmed, Poppy hurried across to him. ‘Does it hurt?’ she asked, her little brow now creased with sympathy.

‘Yes. It does. It hurts quite a lot,’ Mark said throatily, turning to park the bottle of vodka he’d fished from the cupboard on the work surface.