‘D’you ever think,’ she said to him, as they walked at the edge of the little boating lake, ‘that feeling happy is wrong?’ Even as she said it, she thought how odd it was that her father seemed to have instilled this into her and how perverse it must sound.

Philip turned to look at her, frowning. ‘Wrong? No. Why would it be wrong? There’s enough goes against it in this life. You have to make the most of it while you’ve got it, to my mind.’

She nodded, staring at a brown mallard drifting on the water. His hand reached for hers. She wore gloves, but his large hands were bare.

‘Are you happy now?’ he said.

‘Yes.’ She looked at him in confusion, feeling she owed him more honesty. She turned and took his hand in both of hers, looking into his eyes. ‘I am. I’m just . . . Before I left – well, this is why we left – I had a falling-out with my father. He’s not an easy man but he is a good man, at heart. It’s just not always easy to . . . Anyway, I don’t think I can be properly happy until we have resolved things.’

Philip frowned slightly. ‘An apology?’

‘Yes – from him. The trouble is, I don’t know if we shall ever get it. And if we don’t, I’m not sure what to do about it. It’s in my nature to apologize – even though I know really I am not in the wrong – just to make things better. But Annie . . .’

‘Feels differently?’ He seemed amused.

‘She does, yes.’ She thought of Annie for a second, her quietness lately. Was her sister all right? There seemed so many challenges that she felt suddenly tired. Releasing his hand, she turned to the little lake again. A few brown leaves floated on the murky water.

‘We’ll go back for Christmas, I think,’ she said. ‘And hope to make things right then.’ With Father and, she thought, somehow also with Charles. She knew she could never settle fully if she was at loggerheads with anyone.

Philip was silent, staring ahead of him. She could see that he did not want to ask again whether she would return.

‘Just for a while,’ she said, trying to feel quite sure of this. She squeezed his hand.

‘Come on, Pa!’ Daisy called. ‘Let’s go to the bandstand!’

It was too cold for boats and bands that morning. All the walkers were muffled up tight and the air grew damper, threatening rain. But there were a few hopefuls in the park with barrows, selling hot potatoes and chestnuts. Daisy looked longingly at them, but her father took her hand and she did not argue. They were all beginning to feel the cold and a drizzle had begun.