But what exactly was she going to do? Two years ago she’d been planning to travel and see the world, but then Richard had left and she’d known that there was no way she’d be comfortable leaving her daughter with no support. Milly was running a business and had a child, and Connie knew exactly how challenging that could be, particularly during the teenage years. She’d decided that she needed to be there for all the small things that made such a difference. School pickups, the occasional meal, moral support. All the things her own mother had done for her.

And even though it was eighteen months since Richard had walked out, she knew she still wasn’t ready to do an ambitious trip. She’d worry too much to enjoy it.

No, she needed to start small.

Still thinking about it, she grabbed her bag, locked the front door and walked into the village.

It was another glorious day. She was tempted to make herself a picnic and head up to her favorite place near the lake. She could even take a book.

The village was small, little more than a hamlet, but it felt like home to Connie. She loved the stone cottages, the slow pace of life and the proximity of nature. A stream bubbled alongside the road, spanned by a pretty stone bridge that dated back several centuries. In winter smoke curled from the chimneys of those houses but now, in summer, flowers bloomed in borders and spilled from pots, bringing vibrant color to an already bright summer’s day.

Feeling more upbeat, she walked into the bakery to buy fresh bread.

She was trying to decide between a sourdough loaf and a rye bread when someone tapped on her shoulder.

It was Paula, from the choir. Connie hadn’t seen her in months, and coming so soon after the conversation with her mother she wondered if this was the last nudge she needed.

“Connie! It’s good to see you.” Paula’s warmth flowed over her. “We were talking about you just this week because we’re short of sopranos. When are you coming back?”

She’d always enjoyed singing, and she knew the choir members well. And would being unavailable for one evening a week really make much difference to Milly at this point?

She opened her mouth to say that yes, she would come back, when Paula gave her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.

“No pressure. I can imagine things must have been very hard. How is poor Milly doing? I thought about you the other day when I was over at my Tanya’s for her twentieth wedding anniversary. I swear those two are as much in love now as they were on the day they married, and the kids are doing well.”

Connie wondered how it was people could be so unthinkingly tactless.