“No. I totally get it.” Clare sliced mushrooms until they formed a small heap on the chopping board. “You’re looking at the woman who walked away from what some people thought was one of the most glamorous jobs there is, to live in a forest and focus on my family. Becca never understood it.” The moment she said it she wanted to suck the words back. “I’m so sorry.” Becca, Becca, Becca. What was wrong with her? She seemed to think and talk about her friend more now that she was gone than she had when she was alive.

“Don’t apologize. She was your best friend. I understand that you need to talk about her.”

Flora was a great deal more patient than she would have been in the same position.

“I suppose that with Jack being here—well, it slips out sometimes.”

“I understand. When you lose someone you love, talking about them is a way of keeping them alive. Of remembering them.”

Was that what it was? Was she keeping Becca alive? “It’s just that every summer we—I mean...we’ve never had—”

“—a summer without Becca. I know.” Flora took a sip of coffee and put the mug down carefully.

Clare fumbled for something to say. She was the one who was supposed to make Flora feel better, but so far it had been the other way round. “This must be hard for you, too.”

“Not as hard as it is for all of you. I’m sorry if I’ve made this awkward. I tried to tell Jack it would be difficult, but he wouldn’t listen and if I’m honest I couldn’t stand the idea of not seeing him and the girls for three weeks.”

She cared. Clare could see she cared. And Jack cared, too. He’d been smiling the day before. Happy.

At the funeral there had been a gray tinge to his face that had worried her. Now it had gone.

That tense knot inside her loosened.

“I’m glad you came. I’m glad you’re here.” As she said the words she realized that she meant them. “It’s good to see Jack smiling again.”

“He was in a pretty awful state when we first met.” Flora took a breath. “I’m not trying to replace Becca. I hope you don’t think that. I know I couldn’t. She was as close to perfect as a person could get. I’m far from that.”

Clare gaped at her. Was that what she thought? That Becca was perfect? If she hadn’t been so astonished she might have laughed out loud.

“No one is perfect.”