‘I’ll tell them myself. Would you mind not telling Sam either? He and William work so closely together now.’ A shriek of laughter came from outside, followed by Sam’s, and then William’s deeper voice. Her daughter was presumably testing the flying fox.

Exactly what are you going to tell him? Jed wondered. Scarlett and William still ‘saw each other’, whatever that meant, when Scarlett came home. They had even gone camping up on Rock Mountain last Christmas. ‘You don’t think William will want to come with you?’

‘I don’t know. What on earth would he do in Scotland? His work is here. Jed, I’m sorry, but I also don’t think I want him to come either. I do love him. It’s just that . . .’

That he is the only man you’ve had sex with, thought Jed. If you didn’t count Alex — Jed never knew exactly what Scarlett’s relationship with Alex meant to her, or to Alex either, except that it was a close one. And William would tie you to the Scarlett Kelly-O’Hara of Gibber’s Creek, not let you have wild emotional adventures . . . or at least the possibility of them . . .

‘There’s no need to be sorry, brat,’ she said gently. ‘Sometimes relationships just end.’

‘That’s just it. I don’t want it to end. But I don’t want us to be engaged or bound to each other either. I’m going to miss him like crazy. But . . .’

‘And you need to explain that “but” to him.’

‘If I can.’

‘When will you be down?’

‘Friday night. I’d come now, but there’s heaps to arrange.’

‘William will be here for dinner Friday,’ Jed warned. He always was when Scarlett returned.

‘I know. We’ll go for a walk on Saturday morning and I’ll tell him then.’

‘Sounds sensible. How about a party Saturday night and you can tell everyone else?’

‘Not a party. Just all the McAlpines and Nancy and Michael and the boys and Leafsong and Mark, and maybe Carol. And William and his mum if they want to come . . .’

‘Not a party at all then. It’s okay, brat, that was a joke. Alex isn’t going too, is he?’ she asked, hoping her voice was casual.

‘He’s been offered a fellowship as well.’

I knew it, thought Jed, just as Scarlett added, ‘In New York.’

‘That’s wonderful. Congratulate him for me.’ Jed tried to make her voice sound warm. She . . . sort of . . . liked Alex. She just wished he didn’t look at her as if he thought she was a pleasant but quaint exhibit labelled Writer, born early 50s, rural eccentric, oddly dressed.

‘I will. See you on Friday, Jed. And thank you. Thank you for everything and everything and everything!’