She closed her eyes now, a stream of memories flowing past her. Each of them running into the other. She remembered when they had received a generous legacy in their Great Aunt Sabina’s will. It was enough to put a really good down payment on this flat. It felt as if they had trawled through endless rounds of estate agents, looked at every apartment in the city and then finally, Rachel had found this place. A small robin’s nest at the top of an Edwardian baroque house, not on one of the more sought-after squares, but the area was nice enough – a side street that fed easily on either end into busy traffic. The city was walking distance one way, the route to the motorway easily driven the other. It had been her home for more than ten years; tiny, filled with memories and over the last couple of years, accommodating Eddie and his growing collection of ridiculous trainers and hair products.

It was funny, but even now, Eddie still felt like a guest. He’d never think of fixing a leaking tap or going to IKEA with her to pick out a flat-pack they could assemble together. It was very much her flat as far as Eddie was concerned. He was still a visitor. If no longer sleeping on her couch, neither was he making any contribution towards the mortgage in paying rent. She had a feeling he wouldn’t be very handy with DIY jobs, not even at home with Barbara. The Quirkes were the sort of people who got a man in to do the work – whether that be a plumber, a painter or someone to clean their windows – not that they had that many to clean.

It didn’t do her any good to go comparing. The Quirkes and the Latimers were very different families; there was nothing wrong with that. Liv took out her phone. She called Eddie’s number and this time, to her relief, he answered.

‘Gosh,’ she said jokingly, ‘I thought you were ghosting me.’

‘Humph, if anyone was avoiding anyone, I would have thought it was the other way round.’ He sounded grumpy, maybe a little drunk from the day at her parents’ house.

‘Happy Christmas, Eddie.’ Time to start again. ‘Did you get my gift for you?’ She’d left it at the farmhouse the last time she was home, to make sure he didn’t manage to come across it accidentally when he was cleaning the flat – although, deep down and looking about the place now, she had a feeling that nothing was less likely.

‘Um, yeah, Maya handed it to me,’ he said neutrally.

‘And?’ She thought he’d be over the moon. It had cost her an absolute packet and not an inconsiderable amount of planning and twisting of arms on Pete’s part.