‘But you don’t have to move on. You’re allowed to hurt, Rhys.’

‘I don’t want to,’ I say, thinly. ‘I can’t. It’s…’ I run out of words.

‘Too much?’

I nod, once.

‘Oh, Rhys, what did we do to deserve all this? Eh?’ She blows her nose. ‘Some people sail through life, don’t they, why can’t that be us?’

‘What would you do with your time if there wasn’t any gossip to formulate for the bingo?’ I say. She shoots me a look that makes it plain I’m off target, and once again, I feel it. ‘Isn’t hardship the thing that makes us?’ I say, trying to fix the moment.

Reaching back up her sleeve, Mum pulls out the now disintegrated tissue. She throws it in the bin beside us, as if a dysfunctional hanky is the straw to break the camel’s back. ‘I think I’d like a break from it now,’ she says, voice wobbling.

We sit quietly, apart from the occasional sniff from Mum. Each time one of us thinks we’ve found something to say, we stop, closing our mouths, preferring the silence. The clouds pass, letting the August sun beat down on the back of my neck. I feel it prickle in the heat.

Eventually, Mum asks, ‘How is that woman?’

‘What woman?’ I pretend, gritting my teeth.

‘Susan? When did you last go?’ She wipes her face, and stands, offering her hand to pull me up this time.

‘I haven’t seen her. Not since last Thursday.’ I hook Mum’s arm through mine, staring straight ahead as we walk on. ‘I went to her house, with Kat, her nurse. Susan asked me to collect something. Well, she wrote a note. She asked for a book. I thought I should help her, in the absence of anyone else. I imagined you, being on your own. And I couldn’t stop thinking about our David and the fact she had tried to do the same. I wondered if the house, the book, might offer up more answers than I was getting in my visits.’ Mum squeezes my hand. ‘Well, anyway, it all got complicated. We found…’ Mum hangs off my trailing words, and I realise I can’t say out loud that which I can’t yet face. ‘There weren’t any answers. Except that she’d just decided to end things. No big reveal.’ I start walking faster, Mum unlocks her arm from me in an effort to keep up without being pulled over in my haste.

I start shaking my head, bubbles of frustration popping in my belly. Because this conversation is making me think about everything I’ve tried to ignore these last few days, especially the possibility that Susan and I might be connected in any way. I don’t know if I’m ready to find out. Happy endings are rarely that. I’m not living in a Disney movie. Singing birds do not surround me as I walk.

We arrive back at the pavilion where we started. I grit my teeth, clean out of things to say other than, ‘I should go. Jobs to do.’ Mum nods, sadly. ‘I’d drop you off somewhere but…’ I can’t work out a reason why not, except that I need to be away from everyone and everything.