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blond hair up tightly behind her head in a high ponytail. Daintily extracting a slice of lemon from her gin and tonic with long, blood-red fingernails, she popped it into her mouth, then grimaced; possibly from the sourness of the lemon, but more likely at the sight of Ethan. With deliberate effort, she adjusted her features into some semblance of a welcoming smile.
    “Ah, here he is now,” she said. “Ethan, I was just telling your father that Uncle Alan is popping into town tomorrow to collect the kids from boarding school and has offered to take you on safari with him.”  
    “But I only just got here,” Ethan said, a bit taken aback. He poured himself a glass of orange squash from the drinks trolley. He hoped the water had been filtered properly. Sophie glared at him with that exaggeratedly expectant expression that she used to remind him of his manners.
    “Oh, I forgot,” he added. “Sophie, please may I have a drink.”  
    Ethan glanced at his dad, who gave no indication whether or not he thought it was unreasonable for a fifteen-year-old to have to ask for a soft drink in what was technically his own home. Regarding Ethan placidly from behind steepled fingers, he said, “Something has come up. I have to fly to Malawi for a couple of weeks.”
    “I don’t mind staying with Sophie then.” Ethan knew it was going to be a nightmare staying alone with Sophie, but his skin crawled at the thought of being subjected to the questionable hygiene of a farm.
    His dad ran a hand distractedly through his thinning brown hair and allowed it to flop back over his forehead. He took a sip of his whisky, swooshed it around his mouth, and swallowed. “Well, that’s just the thing... Sophie has to come with.”  
    Ethan opened his mouth, about to point out that there was no reason for a housewife to have to travel with her husband on business, but thought better of it. Sophie had reminded them often enough before that it was not her responsibility to look after Ethan. He wondered why Sophie and his dad had campaigned so heavily to have him visit them in the first place. Sophie had been even more insistent than his dad.
    “It’s Neil’s turn,” she’d spat down the phone at Ethan’s mother. “It’s his turn and he is entitled to have Ethan for at least four weeks.”  
    So Ethan had come. They must have known they would have to go to Malawi.  
    “Well, I would like to fly back to mom and Eric then,” he said now.
    Sophie’s mouth tightened. “Don’t be stupid,” she said, as if Ethan wore upon her patience. “We can’t send you home yet. You only just got here. Besides, your mother needs the break.”  
    Ethan was flabbergasted. He would put up with a lot of things from Sophie if that was what his dad wanted, but she was not going to use his mother as an excuse. “No, actually, she doesn’t need the break! She didn’t want me to come, if you remember.”  
    Sophie whipped her head back to glare at Ethan, her wispy ponytail swinging round and hitting her in the face. “Are you calling me a liar?” she hissed through her tightly pursed lips. “Spoiled little rich brat. You never do anything you don’t want to.” She slammed her drink down on the coffee table, then rose from her chair and stomped off into the house.
    Ethan bit the inside of his lip. He glared at his father, waiting for an apology, or even some show of support, an explanation even, but the man could barely contain his irritation.
    “Now look what you’ve done,” he grumbled instead, through clenched teeth. For a moment or two Ethan watched the tendons pulsating in his father’s neck, but his father’s eyes stayed firmly fixed on the progress of the gardener who manhandled an ancient lawnmower back and forth across the yard in the semidarkness. It vaguely annoyed Ethan that there was enough fuel for the mower but not for the back-up generator that supplied the electricity for his computer, which he needed to complete his homework