“Your father is dead, Gwen.

He has been dead five years.

At some point you have to stop treating a pile of bricks like a shrine and start behaving like a wife.”

I got up and put the kettle on so that I would not be looking at her.

And I said, with my back to her: “Beatrice, have you put anything of your own into Christopher’s business?”

There was a silence behind me that went on slightly too long.