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to all sorts of worthy publications. He boosted himself up onto the ledge. His legs no longer dangled.

Chloe offered him a puff on her cigarette, but he declined. ‘You sure? It’s taking the edge off the proceedings nicely.’

Noah held up his smeary glass. ‘I’ll stick to one toxin at a time, thank you very much.’ He glanced around. ‘Nice spot you’ve got here. Though it’s fucking freezing.’

Chloe smiled. ‘I like it. It’s quiet, and Megan never comes in here. And I came prepared.’ She had – an old fleece that she left hanging on the hook by the door. ‘What’s going on?’

Noah put down his drink and tried to hug away the chill. ‘Angus is bathing the boys, and Liv is helping Megan.’

Their shared skirting of domestic responsibilities had a familiar, warm camaraderie to it.

Noah’s eyes flitted around the garage. He picked up a National Geographic. ‘Did Dad ever leave magazines on your bed, folded open on articles he thought you should be interested in?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘He was quite old-school, wasn’t he?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I don’t think he could get his head around how he’d managed to raise such a philistine. He hated that I don’t read.’

‘He never gave up, though, did he?’ Chloe smiled.

‘No. He was an eternal optimist, and stubborn as sin.’ Noah laughed. ‘A book every birthday and Christmas! Did you ever read any of yours?’

‘Some of the novels – the shorter ones! But there’s a mountain of untouched non-fiction on the floor in my bedroom.’

‘He couldn’t stop being a teacher, could he, even at home?’

‘No. It’s just a pity we were such bad students.’

‘At least he had Liv.’

‘That he did.’ They didn’t need to say any more. Chloe pinched out the end of her cigarette and dropped it in the bin, disposing of the evidence.

Noah threw aside the magazine. ‘Have you thought about how you want this weekend to go?’

Chloe wandered around the garage as she considered her response. Her fingers trailed across a pile of bike locks, an old rust-bloomed Breville toastie-maker and the huge toolbox with the vicious snapping lid, which only ever appeared in the house when there was an emergency – by which point Eloise would already be on the phone, booking a professional, in the full knowledge that their father’s bodged repair wouldn’t last. DIY had not been his strong suit. ‘I just can’t face the thought of any aggro, when everything is still so raw.’

‘There doesn’t have to be “aggro” – if we agree.’

‘Noah, I don’t want to think about the will tonight. Please.’

‘Okay, okay.’ He held up his hands, left it a beat, then went on, ‘Would it help if I told you my take on things?’

‘If you must.’ When Noah was in full flood there was no stopping him.

‘The way I see it, Megan is our biggest problem.’ He never could whisper.

Chloe hissed, ‘For God’s sake, Noah, keep your voice down.’

He climbed down from his perch and came to stand near her. ‘I don’t want us to falling into the trap of feeling sorry for her, and ending up doling out cash to her that was intended for us.’

‘I don’t understand why Dad didn’t simply name his beneficiaries,’ Chloe said.

‘I don’t know. And I guess we never will.’ Noah ran his hand through his hair, adding a vein of dust to his dark curls. ‘All I’m saying is… we have to remember who’s family and who isn’t.’

Chloe nodded, but the knot in her stomach didn’t loosen. ‘I wish Mum was here.’

Noah made a non-committal noise. ‘I’m not sure that would make things any easier. Can you imagine it: her and Megan under the same roof? That would be interesting.’ He chuckled. Chloe didn’t. ‘Hey.’ He touched her chin with his dusty fingers, raising her face to meet his. ‘It’s going to be okay. I’ve got your back, I promise.’

Chloe moved away from his touch, unwilling to let the grubby practicalities of money mix with her feelings of grief.

‘And I suppose, when you think about it, it’s a nice problem to have.’

‘How is any of this “nice”?’

‘At least there is a legacy.’

‘Noah!’

He shrugged. ‘Ah, come on, Chloe. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. Whatever we decide, we each stand to inherit a decent amount of money. The house alone has to be worth half a million – more probably.’ She wouldn’t be drawn on the subject, but he seemed unwilling to let it go. ‘If we divide the bulk of the estate between the three of us, that’s a life-changing amount. Well, it is to you and me. I’m not sure it’ll make much difference to Liv. She and Angus are already fairly well set up, as it is. And Mum. Well, Mum got her settlement after the divorce, didn’t she? I can’t see her expecting much.’

Chloe tried to ignore the unpleasant sensation that her brother was attempting to influence her in order to mask his own greed. She reminded herself that Noah’s financial situation was more pressing than her own or Liv’s. He had a mortgage, a child and a partner whose part-time job presumably didn’t bring in much. His own job as a hotel inspector, though glamorous, was not in reality well paid or predictable. They’d all expected him to look for something more permanent and closer to home, once Lily arrived. How Josie tolerated his extended trips away in luxury hotels she didn’t know.

‘Noah! Chloe!’ They both jumped guiltily at the sound of their names.

Noah saluted. ‘We best go. Mein Führer is calling.’ He jostled her towards the door and, despite her reservations, Chloe felt a rush of affection for her brother. Pratting about with Noah, it felt like old times.

Chapter 12

IT WAS sensory overload. An invasion of sights, sounds and smells. Her once-calm, lovely sitting room was buried beneath the shrapnel of Jonathan’s sprawling family. There were greasy wine glasses on every surface, pistachio shells scattered on the carpet, dessert plates on the side-tables, complete with half-eaten slices of tart drying out in the heat of

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