‘It says parent/child . . .’

‘What?’

‘It says you’ve got another child.’

Silence. It was as if someone suddenly sucked the air out of the room. Valentine felt his cup slip from his fingers, the china splintering as it crashed onto the table, the tea spilling onto the carpet.

‘Oh God!’

‘It’s OK, don’t worry, I’ll get a cloth.’ Olivia jumped up.

‘What have I done? I’ve made such a mess.’ He tried to scoop up the pieces of broken china, but a shard pierced his skin.

‘Oh no, you’re bleeding.’ Quickly grabbing a napkin, she reached for his hands.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t worry. It’s nothing.’

‘No, you don’t understand.’

She looked up at Valentine then, holding his hands tightly in hers, stopping him from falling, as shame washed over him.

‘I had an affair.’

WhatsApp with Naomi

Can you and Danny swing?

Is this a sex

question?

No! I’ve organized a dance at the

village hall for the grand opening.

Do you want to come?

Yes.

I’ve hired a band

and there’ll be a bar.

I’ve already said yes.

Great! Btw you won’t have

to sleep in a tent this time.

I loved sleeping in a tent!

Not in December.

Brrr. Good point.

What’s the band called?

Shake, Rattle and Roll.

That sounds like your sex

life when you’re fifty.

Ha!

I’m serious.

You sure it’s not a sex thing?

Forgiveness

With the opening night of the village hall drawing ever closer, the next few weeks are taken up with preparations to make sure everything is ready in time. November passes in a bit of a blur. Bonfire night comes and goes. I stay home with Harry because of the fireworks, although I’m glad of the excuse; after the fire at Ben’s house, I worried it would bring back too many painful memories.

The days are much shorter now, but I wake to beautiful misty mornings. Trees shed their leaves while the rest of us pull on layers of gloves and scarves and jumpers. I rake the leaves into a big pile in the garden and harvest the last of my vegetables. The slugs ate the beans, but I have so many carrots and beets that I find myself googling how to make chutney. Me, making chutney! Who would have thought it?

As the nights draw in, I’m thankful for my new log-burner and spend my evenings cosied up in front of it with Harry who, despite the no-dogs-on-the-sofa rule, has now taken up residence next to me on the sofa. Though technically he’s not on the sofa, as I cover it with a blanket. And yes, I know I’m fooling myself.

But mostly my life is spent at my kitchen table drawing up endless lists, which seem to grow ever longer. As quickly as I cross one thing off, another is added. In a way I’m pleased I’m so busy as it stops me thinking about Ben. He gradually stopped replying to my texts, so in the end I stopped sending them.