‘Is that fair on Kieron? He can do less this year than last.’

‘He loves the pool. And the wildlife. He was so happy watching the deer and squirrels eat the food he’d put outside our lodge every day. Mel’s addicted to the spa there and Fergus loves all that adrenaline stuff. It’s partly why he volunteered to go along on the school residential to supervise. Or are you just worried he’ll want a turn at the activities this year and you might have to—’

‘Fergus offered to sit out with Kieron—’

‘I know. I was only teasing.’

Aidan slices into a carrot with more force than necessary.

Wanting to change the subject, I search for something to say, topics that we might have talked about before tragedy reached out with its dirty fingers, staining our hearts with its blackness, a common ground that doesn’t involve the boys but nothing comes to mind. Our conversations usually centre around Kieron and now there’s Connor to worry about. Everything circles back to the kids in one way or another.

It’s the ringing of my phone that breaks the silence, the screen alight with the face of my best friend.

‘Hi, Melissa.’ I assume she’s ringing to find out how Kieron’s appointment went today but instead all I can hear is the sound of her crying.

‘Mel? What’s wrong?’

‘Have you seen Fergus?’

‘We haven’t seen Fergus?’ I raise my questioning eyebrows towards Aidan and he gives a shake of his head. ‘Is something wrong? I can come—’

‘No,’ she says sharply.

‘Mel… What’s happened?’

‘It’s… He’s… Fergus,’ she speaks falteringly, releasing one syllable at a time. ‘Fergus has left me.’

Fergus adores Mel and Ryan. Working as a pilot he’s often away and when they’re together they are always touching, holding hands.

‘Left you?’ I’m parroting her but I can’t process what she’s telling me.

Aidan’s expression flitters between confusion and alarm. ‘What’s going on?’ he mouths.

‘Mel… Why has Fergus gone? Where has he gone?’

She ignores my question. ‘He hasn’t been in touch with you? Or Aidan?’

‘Neither of us have heard from him, Mel… You’ll be able to sort things out, won’t you?’

There’s a beat before she says, ‘Some things can’t be repaired, Lucy.’

I glance at my mug. Those tiny hands and feet.

‘If Fergus gets in touch with either of you can you let me know?’

‘Of course but I’ll come over. Give me half an hour and—’

‘No! Please don’t.’ There’s an urgency in her voice combined with something I can’t quite identify. ‘Just don’t. And if Fergus turns up on your doorstep, don’t let him in.’

‘But—’

‘I’ll be in touch.’

The dial tone whirrs against my ear.

‘What’s going on?’ Aidan asks.