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The holiday resort was so new it wasn’t finished yet. I only knew about it because one of my regulars had a nephew who had helped build it. As we drove up the long, snaking lane that led to the accommodation, we passed JCBs and concrete mixers that stood abandoned as if the workers had gone on holiday themselves. Despite that, it was beautiful here; here being the Wales-Shropshire border, just outside the small market town of Ellesmere.

The cabins were arranged in a semicircle around what had been described as a lake, though it was actually a pond, surrounded by long grass that was dotted with wildflowers. We had a hot tub which had never been used before, and an outdoor table and chairs that looked like they’d come straight from a warehouse.

‘So, what do you think?’ I asked after we’d looked round the open-plan kitchen/diner/living room and checked out the three bedrooms.

‘What’s the Wi-Fi password?’ Dylan asked, opening his phone and simultaneously turning the TV on to reveal the Netflix logo.

‘It’s small,’ said Rose. She wrinkled her nose in her brother’s direction. ‘And have I got to share a bathroom with him?’

‘That’s what you do at home,’ I said.

‘Yeah, but he always stays in there forever – doing God knows what – and he makes it stink.’

‘You’re such a brat,’ Dylan said.

Rose turned to me. ‘Please, Dad. You promised we’d have our own bathrooms.’

‘Did I?’

‘I suppose she could have the room with the en-suite,’ Emma suggested.

‘But that’s the only room with a double bed.’ The others each contained two singles. Is that what Emma wanted? To sleep in separate beds?

‘Oh my God, there’s no need to look so horrified. It’ll be nice for Rose to have her own bathroom.’

So we were rewarding bad behaviour now, were we? Rose had been awful since the moment I’d told the kids we were going away for a few days.

I’d texted Emma as soon as I’d left Fiona’s house, sick with guilt and fear, asking if she could book a long weekend off work.

Iris gave me a commission for selling that record and I think we should all go away for a few days. Me, you and the kids. xx

I had been surprised when she’d responded almost immediately, saying Great idea x . My instant, pleased reaction was very quickly replaced by an extra helping of paranoia. Did she think a break would give her the perfect opportunity to drop her bombshell, and tell me she was in love with someone else?

Now I couldn’t help but think she was pleased about us sleeping in single beds. Was she worried I’d try to initiate sex? Rose had handed her a chance to put a physical gap between us.

‘Are you all right?’ Emma asked, tilting her head and studying me. ‘We’re on holiday. You’re meant to be relaxed.’

Maybe I would be , I thought, if I hadn’t seen you hugging Mike .

‘Please don’t argue,’ Dylan said. ‘I can’t stand it.’

‘We’re not arguing.’ Emma and I both spoke at the same time.

I forced myself to breathe. ‘I’m going to unload the car. Do you want to give me a hand, Rose?’

‘Do I really have to?’

I shook my head. ‘What has got into you?’

‘I told you,’ said Dylan. ‘She’s a brat.’

Right now, it was hard to disagree. She’d been like this ever since she’d got home from her day trip to the countryside with Fiona. Different, somehow. Like she was holding herself straighter, or she’d grown an inch or two. She seemed more grown-up, like there was suddenly a young adult in the house instead of a child. Of course, when I’d asked her what she and Fiona had done on their day out, she had clammed up in typical tweenage fashion. Then she had been less than pleased when I told her we were going away for a couple of nights.

We had been in the middle of dinner. She’d been quiet, eating steadily. I’d been struggling a little because I felt so sick – afraid I was visibly trembling from the pressure of trying to conceal my unhappiness.

I’d thought that telling the kids about the holiday would be a bright spot in a shit week. But Rose had set down her fork.

‘You’re joking. I don’t want to go away.’

‘Why not? It’ll be fun. We’ll have a hot tub and there will be lots of places we can go for days out—’

‘Just stop whining, Rose,’ Emma said, interrupting me. She had been on her phone – texting Mike? – but she put it down now. ‘Your dad has arranged for us to go away on a family holiday. You should be grateful.’

Rose glowered at her. ‘It sounds lame. I want to stay here.’

‘She doesn’t want to be apart from Fiona,’ Dylan said.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Rose said with a snarl. ‘I just don’t want to stay in a stupid cabin and play stupid board games.’

Emma leaned towards her, wearing her patented take-no-shit expression. ‘You see Fiona every day and now you’re going to spend some time with your family.’

While I took comfort from that remark – it seemed she still cared about our family – Rose muttered something under her breath. It sounded like: With the herd.

I tried to break the tension by making a joke of it. ‘You’re going to have fun even if it kills you.’

But Rose hadn’t seen the funny side. She had left her dinner half-eaten and stormed out of the room.

And then there had been another incident. Emma had told Rose and Dylan to pack their bags and to ensure they had enough clothes for a few days, plus the gadgets and chargers and anything else they couldn’t live without. Rose had stomped around the house gathering her stuff together while wearing headphones so she wouldn’t have to talk to us. Finally, fed up of how long she was taking, Emma went into her room to help her, pulling clothes out of her wardrobe. I could hear everything from our bedroom, where I was packing my own bag.

‘How about these?’ Emma said.

‘They’re ugly.’

‘But I thought you loved them.’

‘Yeah, when I was little .’

I could picture Emma sighing. She said, ‘What about—?’ and then ‘What’s this?’ A pause. ‘Did you take this from my room? I’ve been looking for it everywhere.’

I left our bedroom and crossed the landing, standing in Rose’s doorway. Emma was holding up a small object. A lipstick. Emma had asked me a week or two ago if I’d seen it, but I’d assumed she’d misplaced it and hadn’t given it a second thought.

‘I don’t mind you borrowing my stuff, but you should ask first, not just go into my room and help yourself. Also, you don’t need—’

‘I didn’t do it!’

‘Then how did it get into your pocket?’

‘I have no idea. Maybe you put it there.’

‘Why would I do that?’

‘Come on, Emma,’ I said. ‘It’s not a big deal, is it?’

Emma wheeled around on me, annoyed. ‘She shouldn’t take stuff without asking.’

Without warning, Rose snatched the lipstick from Emma’s hand and threw it against the wall.

‘I hate you!’ She yelled it at the top of her voice, drawing Dylan from his room.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Dylan, just stay out of it,’ I said, but Rose barged past me as I spoke, leaving Emma open-mouthed behind her, and locked herself in the bathroom. She didn’t come out for an hour. In the meantime, Emma agreed to leave it. We would go away, enjoy the holiday. I was so tense because of my marital woes that I could barely function. I couldn’t cope with a war between Emma and Rose on top.

All the way up the motorway Rose had sat there looking like she was being driven to a prison camp, complaining about the music, about feeling carsick, asking to stop so she could use the loo three times in four hours. She was hardly talking to Emma. Thankfully, the lipstick hadn’t been mentioned again, but I had never seen Rose in such a foul mood.

‘Rose,’ I said now, determined not to lose my temper. ‘You’re going to help me unpack the car.’

She huffed and puffed as she carried small bags to and fro, stopping several times to look at TikTok on her phone. I was tempted to pluck it from her grasp and fling it into the pond.

‘We’re going to have a good time, I promise,’ I said, knowing that shouting and playing the parent card wouldn’t work. Much better to be positive and wait for the storm clouds to pass.

She grunted – and then, to my enormous surprise, she flung her arms around me, pressing the side of her face against my chest. She hung on for thirty seconds.

‘What was that for?’ I asked.

She looked confused, like she wasn’t sure why she’d done what she’d just done. Like she was annoyed with herself.

‘I love you, sweetheart,’ I said, ruffling her hair.

She flinched away, irritated by my touch, and I thought she was going to storm off again, the most capricious creature on the planet, but instead she said, ‘I love you too, Dad,’ and of course I forgave her for everything.

There was another family in the cabin next to ours with kids roughly the same age as Dylan and Rose. The son, Henry, was eleven, and the daughter, Keira, was fifteen. Their parents, Theo and Angela, came round a couple of hours after we’d arrived, and said that if our kids wanted to hang out with theirs, that was cool by them.

Dylan shrugged and acted nonchalant but I could tell he was keen – because Keira was a very pretty girl. They had brought their dog with them (we had only made arrangements to leave Lola behind because she hated car journeys), and Keira asked Dylan if he wanted to take the dog, a golden retriever, for a walk along the nearby canal. He agreed immediately.

Rose seemed far less enthusiastic about spending time with Henry, but there was something wrong with our hot tub – the temperature was too low – and when Henry, who was one of those kids who seemed to be completely lacking the shyness gene, suggested Rose use their tub, she allowed herself to be persuaded.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Theo to Emma and me. ‘We’ll keep an eye on them.’ He had a Manchester accent and we had a chat about music while Rose got changed. He seemed nice, as did Angela, who explained she was a child psychologist.

‘That must be interesting,’ Emma said. ‘Except I guess you’re constantly having to resist the urge to analyse your own kids.’

‘Oh, I can’t help it.’ She laughed. We were standing on the strip of grass between our cabins. ‘It’s impossible not to mess up your children in some way or other. Luckily, ours seem to be doing pretty well so far. Henry is outgoing, like his dad.’

‘And Keira is a brainbox like her mum,’ Theo said. ‘Beautiful like her too.’

‘Creep.’

He put his hand on the small of her back and their lips met briefly. I felt a stab of envy. When was the last time Emma had kissed me or shown affection in front of others? I couldn’t remember.

‘Are you all right, mate?’ Theo asked.

‘Huh? I’m fine.’ I knew I didn’t sound it. ‘I was just thinking ... Rose has been quite moody and difficult the last couple of days.’

‘“Quite moody” is an understatement,’ Emma interjected. ‘It’s like someone came and body-swapped our lovely daughter and replaced her with a new, angrier model.’

‘How old is she?’ Angela asked.

‘Just turned twelve.’

‘And she’s only just started to get moody?’

I was about to go into more detail when Angela put her palms up and said, ‘It’s not ethical for me to talk about a specific child, so don’t give me any more information. But in general terms, my advice is simple.’

‘Yes?’

She smiled. ‘Chill out. That’s my advice. A lot of parents get very het up about their child’s behaviour in their tween years and when they hit puberty. They’re like, “my child is suddenly so angry”, or “my child hates me”. But it’s just normal childhood development. Moodiness, anger, being difficult. I’m sure you were both the same. I bet you went through it with Dylan a few years ago too.’

‘Hmm. Not really.’

‘He was a bit moody,’ Emma said. ‘And he still spends a lot of time locked away playing video games and listening to music.’

‘And probably watching all sorts of muck,’ Theo said with a laugh.

‘I dread to think,’ said Emma.

‘The point is,’ Angela said once we’d all stopped pulling faces, ‘I wouldn’t worry. As long as a child – a young adult – isn’t completely unattached from his or her parents and isn’t suffering from one or more of the mental health issues that are so common these days ...’

‘As long as she’s not going round burning down houses or torturing cats, you’re grand.’ Theo winked at me.

Rose appeared, changed into her swimming costume and wrapped in a towel.

‘What were you all talking about?’ she asked, and for a horrible moment I thought she might have overheard us.

‘Oh, nothing,’ Emma said. ‘I think Henry is waiting for you by the hot tub.’

We all looked over. There he was, a skinny eleven-year-old kid wearing a pair of goggles, waiting patiently with a big smile on his face. Rose looked at him and I couldn’t help but laugh at her expression. She looked like the headmistress of a posh boarding school regarding a poor oik who had somehow won a scholarship. But she strode over to him and I heard her say, ‘I hope it’s not cold like ours.’

‘Well,’ said Angela. ‘We’d better go and keep an eye on them.’

‘You two should make the most of being child-free,’ said Theo, winking again.

‘Hmm,’ said Emma. ‘I think I’ll go and read in the bath.’

She went inside and I thought, This is the perfect opportunity to talk to her, while there are no kids around . But by the time I went in she had locked herself in the bathroom and the taps were running.

Was she in there texting him ?

My guts roiled from the stress of it all, and the only thing I could think to do was get a bottle of wine out of the fridge and take it outside. I stood on the decking and saw Dylan and Keira emerge from the woods in the distance, the dog trotting along beside them. As they came closer I heard laughter and wondered if this was going to result in a brief holiday romance. I guessed it was easier for teenagers these days. They could keep in touch and chat online, follow each other on TikTok or whatever. It would be nice for Dylan to make a new friend. And if he did like Keira, it was certainly a lot healthier than watching him eye up our adult neighbour – which, thankfully, I hadn’t seen him do in a while.

You’re the only one eyeing her up , said my conscience.

It struck me that Dylan was the easiest member of our family. The only one I wasn’t worried about.

But what about my moody daughter? Was she making a new friend? I peered over the fence that separated the two cabins. Rose was in next door’s hot tub, the bubbling water covering her shoulders, seemingly relaxed and happy. Strangely, Henry was standing beside the tub, holding his towel, goggles still on.

It was as if she had told him he wasn’t allowed to get in with her. Was he scared of her – this little twelve-year-old girl?

Surely not.

But the more I looked, the more it seemed evident. He was afraid of her.