‘Me too. But it’ll be nice to have the money. We can travel. See some of the world. And you can get a sports car. Really go for it with your midlife crisis.’

Martin pursed his lips as though considering it. ‘And maybe a younger wife. Now you’re talking.’

‘You better be joking, Cooper,’ Sandra said.

‘About the sports car, yes. The wife – maybe not.’ He put his arms around her. ‘Of course I’m joking. You know I love you. More and more the older we get. I can’t imagine life without you.’

‘Then sell up,’ Sandra said. ‘Work for them for a while, maybe go part-time, and we can spend some time together. Let’s live life.’

He kissed her head. ‘OK. We’ll sell. Travel. I just wish we could do it with Maggie and James. Go to Asia, New Zealand, the Rockies. It’d be perfect. I still miss her, Sandy.’

Sandra sipped her water. ‘Me too. I often imagine Maggie watching me. If I’m running and I feel like giving up, I imagine her there, telling me to carry on. And if she was here now, she’d be telling us to take the money and enjoy ourselves.’

‘I think you’re right,’ Martin said. ‘That’s what she would say. But I’d give every one of those three million pounds and more for one chance to hug her again.’

Four Years Earlier: July 2014

Maggie

1

Leo was a slow waker. She watched him every day – he slept later than her, unlike Seb, who had been her alarm clock – so she was used to watching his body start to jerk and move, his feet kick and his lips twitch, his eyes open and focus as a new day began.

Today he was three. She had been thinking about it for weeks, the memory of Seb’s third birthday still an agonizing, raw wound.

The only thing worse was the fear it might happen again.

But it might not.

‘Happy birthday, Leo,’ she said.

He looked at her for a while, then climbed off the bed. He was wearing his Batman underpants and a faded blue T-shirt. His legs, longer and leaner than Seb’s, were bare.

‘I’m thirsty,’ he said. ‘Water?’

He was very different to his brother. Seb had smiled often, and, for a toddler, was very even-tempered. He rarely got upset, rarely flew off the handle.

Leo, though, had tantrums. Maggie remembered the first one. After breakfast, she had asked if he wanted to hear a story.

No, Mummy.

He folded his arms and stared at her.

I do not want a story.

OK. What do you want to do? Draw? The man had brought some paper and crayons, and Maggie had drawn pictures for Leo to colour in. She picked up one – a dragon – and offered it to him.

He slapped it down.