“He’s a creative genius.” Barely able to see past the volume of blooms, Lorna was in a forgiving mood. “I should have made allowances. Was it okay when you went yesterday?”

“Yes.” As promised, she’d returned in the afternoon when he was out and had been careful not to touch the sheets of paper that were carpeting the floor. She’d piled all the dirty mugs and plates into the dishwasher and set it to run while she’d changed sheets and towels and freshened up the rooms. A quick look inside the fridge had revealed that he clearly had no plans to cook a nutritious dinner for himself. She’d removed the single piece of ancient, dried out cheese hiding away at the back and on impulse paid a swift visit to the café. She’d picked up a light summer salad and a slice of lemon tart, which she’d left in his fridge along with a note.

At least she wouldn’t have to worry about him starving or poisoning himself.

“Anyway,” Lorna said as she adjusted her grip on the flowers, “I wanted to show you these and make sure you were fine with everything.”

“I’m fine.” She wondered what Brendan was doing right at that moment. Tapping away at his laptop? Staring across the lake waiting for inspiration? Letting another mug of coffee go cold?

Maybe she’d drop off another meal later, just in case he was hungry. This time she’d make it herself.

Lorna left the room, and Milly checked her phone. There was nothing from Nicole. Which meant what? Had she left? Was she regretting telling Milly everything?

It was funny how friendships work, Milly mused. She’d been so upset, so determined to keep Nicole at a distance, but then the moment Nicole had opened up, the resentment and hurt inside her had retreated. In the moments before Zoe had turned up, it had almost felt as if they were back in the old days, before the foundations of their friendship had been shaken.

She went back to work and was in the middle of signing off invoices when her phone rang. It was Richard.

Her heart rate increased, her body already anticipating trouble. Richard only ever called when there was a problem. He’d be canceling or postponing something, all the time delivering the message that his new life was full and busy and fun and that he didn’t really have time for her.

She considered letting it go to voice mail but then remembered that she’d vowed not to keep doing that, so she forced herself to answer.

“Hi, Richard.” She stared at the photo of Zoe that she kept on her desk. No matter what he said, she was going to be polite and civilized for Zoe’s sake. For their daughter.

“I got your message. And I have to say I did not appreciate the tone.”