‘Why are your fingers so cold, darling? Where are your gloves?’

Bella grinned, and made them appear from each of her coat pockets like a magician doing a trick. Purple and sparkly—the brightest objects on this overcast day.

‘Okay, but put them back on after the swinging.’

They each held one of Bella’s hands and Marty called out: ‘One, two, three, SWING!’

He was careful to keep his momentum the same as Lexie’s. His wife seemed stronger since they’d moved here. The hard lines of her bones were softening; she’d put some weight on her skinny frame. Lexie was wearing her black fleece jacket; the one she’d bought eight years ago on their ski trip to Italy. Back then, she only drank when they socialised. In those photos, she had blonde hair and a big grin; she’d teased him that he was too old to keep up with her on the slopes and on the dance floor. He remembered them holding hands on the chairlift, drinking a creamy Bombardino which left cinnamon dotted around her nose, sharing lasagne with a single fork, and a kiss tasting of gluhwein. Her wonder at the jagged skyline of the Alps, the storybook villages dusted in snow. Now, dressed all in black with her dark hair, she could have passed for an Italian working at the resort. A different woman from the one he’d married. Inside and out.

‘One, two, three, SWING!’

Giggling, Bella kicked her feet up high in the air.

‘That’s enough now,’ Lexie suddenly said. ‘Put your gloves back on, darling.’

‘No, Mummy, I want more.’

Marty had tried to catch Lexie’s eye but she was focused on Bella.

‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘She can have a few more.’

‘But you said that swinging could dislocate her elbow,’ Lexie whispered.

Bella stopped in the middle of the path and refused to move.

‘For God’s sake, Lexie, that was a year ago.’ He hadn’t meant to sound so exasperated and tried to rein it in. ‘It’s okay. She’s bigger now.’

Squatting down, Lexie was wrestling with the sparkly gloves, trying to get Bella to unfold her arms and hold out her fingers.

‘Bella is big and strong and healthy,’ he said. ‘We can give her five more swings.’

‘I’m big and strong!’ Bella echoed, snatching her hands away from her mother. She held her arms up in a bodybuilder pose. ‘I’m so big. I’m almost four. I can have swings, can’t I, Dadda?’

‘You let her do anything,’ Lexie hissed.

And you’re turning her into a neurotic, anxious child, he wanted to retort.

Bella darted out of Lexie’s reach and rushed to investigate something next to the path.

‘Yukky! Look at this, Dadda!’