she tells Declan. “Started to, anyway. Some kind of modelling clay – dead easy to work with. They gave us these plastic scalpels but you could do most of it with your fingers.” She pulls a face. “Smelly, though – catch a whiff of that.” She raises her hands to the picture on her bedroom wall. “And that’s after I had a shower.”Dec just goes on standing there, his expression unchanged, offering an apple to the goat in the olive grove behind the villa.“I haven’t started on your face yet,” she goes on. “Well, I did. Spent ages on your nose then gave up and just squished it back in.” She presses her thumb against his nose in the photo. “You have a very difficult nose, Declan Richard Faverdale.”Shiv has taken to doing this lately – chatting to the night-time projections of her brother. Telling him all about her day. Letting him know how she’s getting on. With her voice kept low so as not to disturb Caron and Helen in the rooms either side, Shiv’s monologues remind her of the whispery conversations she and Declan had in the dark when they were still small enough to share a bedroom.“Hey, it was Day 10 today,”
