‘And what did you think you were doing when you sent out that newsletter making your personal relationship with Will public? It made us a laughing stock,’ Monty had thundered on.

Clancy had hardly been able to believe her ears. ‘Don’t you think what Will did and your shitty, callous reaction was more to the point? I know IsVid is important to you, Monty, but don’t I deserve any support?’

Asila and Tracey had tried to cut across Monty’s reply, beginning a gentler conversation about whether Clancy should take time out. She closed her eyes, remembering how Monty had brushed them aside with, ‘Frankly, I’m not sure how we can go on working together after your chaotic reaction to what’s happened, Clancy.’

As the others had fallen silent Clancy had gasped, ‘You want me to leave?’ Will had stood by, looking haunted, but hadn’t contradicted Monty. And neither had Asila or Tracey, though their eyes had filled with compassion. The scene had grown ugly with rage and pain, and Clancy had stormed home. Except that it was no longer home. It was an apartment she’d shared for three years with Will and where she’d spent untold hours planning the wedding they’d now never have with its colour theme of grey and duck-egg blue. She’d already agreed to move out.

Then Aaron’s email had arrived on her phone with a ting!

Clancy,

Did you get my message about the caretaker at the cottages? In case it went astray:

Evelyn, who’s lived at the Roundhouse in exchange for administering the two tenanted cottages and servicing the three holiday lets has left suddenly and we need to fill her position.

Shall I advertise?

Aaron

The relief had been astronomical. Without questioning the wisdom of her impulsive action, the fact that she’d parted from Aaron on bad terms and had never been back to Nelson’s Bar, her reply had flown from her typing fingers.

I know someone who wants the job with the accommodation, which will save you the bother of advertising. She’ll arrive tomorrow.

Clancy

For the past six years, since Alice had jilted Lee and Aaron had bought Lee out of the property, she’d looked after Alice’s half of Roundhouse Row with a tiny fragment of her capabilities. A part-time caretaking job would be a breeze; a summer in Norfolk would help her heal. She’d wilfully ignored Aaron’s astounded reply: TOMORROW??? What about references??? Or me being able to chat with this person? And, later, Clancy! Please reply! She’d put her phone on ‘do not disturb’ in case he broke the tacit agreement of only communicating via email, and rang.

And that’s how she’d ended up sitting amongst boxes last night, packing recklessly for a low-effort life change and a place to lick her wounds. She’d been able to look into Will’s mortified face and say with manufactured indifference, ‘I have somewhere to go. You needn’t worry.’ She’d handed him the white leather file emblazoned with September Wedding in silver. ‘You’ll find everything in here that you need to cancel our wedding. It’s only fair that you take responsibility as you’re the one to find someone new.’ Then she’d completed her packing with the images of wedding dresses and morning suits swimming in the tears in her eyes, remembering, now she was about to return to Nelson’s Bar, Alice’s wedding day.