I had never quite forgiven my mother for withdrawing from us the way she did, wallowing in her own grief whilst almost ignoring ours. But with the loss of Gerald, I had perhaps come to understand her more, her apparent selfishness, for I was convinced no one else could possibly be suffering as I was. My grief for Gerald was not indulgent, it was all-consuming, and its intensity seemed to validate the love I had always felt for him. He was my future, but when he died, that very future was taken from me. I now had to consider that Lydia’s death might have left my mother feeling the same way.

‘I’m not going to do anything silly again,’ I said at last.

‘Promise me?’

I forced a smile and sat down beside her, our shoulders brushing. I took the bottle from her hand and tossed it into the grate. It clattered onto the tiles of the hearth. ‘I refuse to take the pills, but I promise, I won’t do anything to hurt myself. I couldn’t do that to you.’

She nodded, her innate dignity struggling with overwhelming emotion. She took my hand.

‘Good,’ she said, issuing a gentle squeeze before relinquishing her hold as she stood up. She patted my shoulder and took her leave, but she paused in the doorway.

‘It will ease, Stella – your sadness. You will learn to live with it. We all learn to carry on in the end.’

I sat quietly once she had gone. It was my fault, of course, that she lived on her nerves, so readily entertaining her worst fears, her greatest nightmare. I had to acknowledge my culpability.

I had not been home a week when Annie Burrows dragged me from the lake. I’d managed to escape my mother’s watchful eye and I knew exactly what I wanted to do with the precious moments her distraction had afforded me. I walked out, setting a steady but unhurried pace, straight to the lake, striding with intent down the wooden jetty, my footsteps echoing on the boards, the water gently lapping below. I paused for a moment when I reached the end, briefly allowing myself the succour of my most cherished memory, before I stepped out into thin air. The freezing cold of the dark waters as they closed over my head was shocking. Yet as I sank lower, threads of pondweed tickling my legs as my skirts billowed about my waist, I made a conscious decision not to struggle, not to kick towards the silvery light diffused across the surface now far above my head. In that moment, I experienced peace the like of which I hadn’t felt for weeks. I relaxed into the lake’s watery embrace, which was no longer frigid and frightening, but warm and consoling. I was not afraid. I think I was relieved.