‘Oh, you know how he is,’ Vivian replied. ‘He’ll be out the other side by tomorrow morning. It’s just the anniversary of your grandfather’s death that set him off last night. He’ll be back on an even keel soon. He’s worrying about Harry’s latest check-up too, no matter how much Rachel tries to reassure him.’

‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do,’ Holly said.

Like many men of his age, Edward Renton internalised most things, resulting in darkish spells, but these were improving with every passing year now that his father, Holly’s grandfather, had passed away. Holly knew there were some things she’d never know about her father’s relationship with his own dad, had resigned herself to that years ago, but it didn’t make her mother’s life any easier.

Rachel was prone to the odd bout of anxiety herself, and Holly kept the encroaching demons at bay with a rigorous routine of yoga and meditation; she knew her mother did her best to keep her father afloat, too.

‘I will.’ Vivian hugged her daughter and then headed back out of the back door. ‘See you soon.’

As her mother left, Holly closed the lid on the suitcase and dragged it into her bedroom. There would be plenty of time later to go through its contents and see what else she’d stashed from her university days.

Placing the photograph of Charlie firmly to the back of her mind, she flipped on the kettle and made a cup of coffee to take back down to the shop to Rachel. She’d get the photo of her friends out later, scan it and upload it to Facebook. Not for the first time, she was thankful that smartphones didn’t exist when she was at university; there were plenty of memories, especially those concerning the sangria, that were best consigned to memory rather than the internet. And as for that sweet remembrance of the tall, awkward boy in London… that was definitely better consigned to the past.

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