The headstone is small and simple. It gives Felix’s name and the date of his birth and his death. It says, ‘Dearly beloved.’ And he is. The length of his life, those three short days, is no measure of it. There’s no scale to measure how deeply we feel his absence, how much we miss him, and how much we love him still.

Ellie has stopped in her tracks. I pause to see what she is looking at, half expecting not to be able to see it; there’s something uncanny about her these days, always has been, in fact, but I used to think it was just that she had an overactive imagination and now I am not so sure.

‘Oh, look,’ Jenny says. ‘Isn’t it beautiful? For a moment I thought it was a statue.’

There is a heron on the low outer wall of the cemetery, just by the corner where we are headed. We all stop to gaze at it, even Daisy. We can see it in profile – its fierce beak, the white bulk of its folded wings, its slender legs. I can see why Jenny thought it was carved: it’s so still and poised. It really doesn’t look alive.

It is looking out across the grass that stretches from the cemetery boundary towards the banks of a stream – one of the many streams that flow through Kettlebridge and the surrounding villages, and end up in the Thames. It is standing guard. Its concentration is extraordinary. Superhuman. It’s like an encounter with a mythic beast, a gryphon or a phoenix or a hippogriff, something ancient and possibly only imagined, recorded in ancient texts. It looks as if it could stay there forever, or be gone in the blink of an eye.

And then it bends its neck and opens its wings and launches itself into flight, and swoops away in the direction of the stream.

Ellie turns to see it go and I catch the look of awe on her face. Awe and gratitude, as if something she’s been hoping and waiting for has come to pass. It doesn’t even strike me as odd, because I feel the same.

I open my mouth to say something, and the word I’m reaching for is heron. But these days, none of me can be relied on to do what I want it to. What comes out is my son’s name, and it sounds as light and sweet as a blessing.

If you couldn't put His Secret Family down, you will love Ali Mercer's other novel Lost Daughter – an emotional family drama about motherhood, love and loss that will stay with you long after the final page.

Order it now!

Lost Daughter

An utterly heartbreaking and unforgettable page-turner

Order it now!

You’ve lost everything you’ve ever loved, and it’s all your fault… isn’t it? Rachel’s life isn’t perfect, but she’s so happy. Her husband Mitch has stuck by her and he’s an amazing dad. Her daughter Becca makes her heart explode with love.