In January, we decided to spend a few weeks ‘dating’; we began flirting again and the spark between us returned. It felt like the days when we first met. Finally, I saw flashes of our old life return, but it felt deeper, more truthful, actually more exciting.

Some evenings, instead of going out, we would have a glass of wine and a takeaway together. We would talk about watching a film, but never got as far as finishing one because the conversation would turn to Joni and then back to us, our separation, our plans and each of us would air the latest thing on our mind.

As the weeks passed, I believed how remorseful Jason felt. He seemed fully committed to getting back together for the long-term future, and I knew I couldn’t really imagine a life without him. On 28^th January, the day Jason brought his suitcase back full, to stay, I knew with all my heart that it was what I wanted and what Joni needed too. I had found a way to let go of the past and embrace the new shape of our future. And I had learnt that love was messy, imperfect, painful at times, but true love always found a way to win through.

Chapter Forty-Six

Aisha

May

As summer approached, I had an irrepressible urge to holiday in a gîte in France. We had visited our gîte in the Loire Valley every year when I was a school child and my memories of those summers were idyllic. Messing around in boats on the river, exploring woods and running through fields, going to the boulangerie, BBQing, attempting to play tennis, and, in later years, beating my parents at tennis as I became an accomplished player.

But the highlight had always been the anticipation – the thought that the night before the holiday I’d be put to bed in my day clothes and then transferred, complete with My Little Pony pillow and duvet, in what felt like the middle of the night, into the back of the Audi to drive down to Portsmouth and board the ferry to Calais.

I could remember the oily smell of the lower deck, which was generally where I’d have been when I was roused by my mother and led upstairs into the lounge for a cooked breakfast. It had always happened at the beginning of every August, and it had never lost its allure. I was devastated when Dad decided to sell the gîte soon after Mum passed away.

Now that I had a baby – a little family of my own – I wanted to recreate that feeling for Joni. I knew she’d be too young to remember it this year, she was still only little, but it would mean so much to me.

‘Let’s see it as a dry run – a recce for future holidays,’ I had said to Jason.

Jason and I decided to go in mid-May, to coincide with Joni’s first birthday. She was still at the stage of sleeping every time we turned on the car engine so we were optimistic it would be a fairly easy drive to and from the ferry. Before confirming the booking, Jason googled the weather in the Loire, which looked changeable, and asked if I was sure I wouldn’t rather fly to Greece and stay in the nicest spa resort we could afford for guaranteed hot weather at this time of year.