She’d promised herself – and Devan, who seemed happy with this compromise, in light of his new commitments – that although she might not retire completely, she would cut down on her tours next year. She couldn’t afford a repeat of this summer on any level. Her vulnerability to Jared had scared her. The length of time it had taken her to recover from the virus had scared her too – one no doubt feeding into the other. And whereas there was fault on both sides for the breach in their marriage, Connie had been the one to cross the line. It still shocked her that even a marriage as seemingly strong and solid as theirs had shown it wasn’t invincible.

She gently placed a hand to his head, feeling his soft hair, his warm cheek against her palm. I love you, she whispered silently. Devan stirred, opening his eyes. He blinked and smiled, taking her hand in his. He reached forward to kiss her and they snuggled into each other’s arms under the warm duvet as the autumn dawn began to light the room.

‘Just popping to the shop,’ Connie shouted upstairs. She was glowing, satiated from the lovemaking that had followed the cuddle, rosy from a hot shower, her body revitalized in a way she had not felt for a long time. ‘We’re out of bread.’

Old Mrs Mounce – whose son owned the village store – was behind the till, as she was most mornings. Connie thought she must have been eighty if she was a day, her plump face covered with liver spots, her hands shaking as she took Connie’s wholemeal loaf and the newspaper to scan.

‘Nasty out,’ Mrs Mounce commented, probably for the twentieth time that morning – she never talked about anything but the weather, which never failed her in its fickleness.

‘Going to rain all day, they say,’ Connie dutifully returned.

Mrs Mounce pushed the paper and loaf back across the wooden counter, handing Connie her receipt. Gathering her purchases, she turned to leave, bumping into someone standing too close behind her.

‘Sorry,’ she said.

‘Sorry,’ echoed the man.

She froze. That voice. No. She hardly dared look up. But when she did, it was straight into the turquoise eyes of Jared Temple. She thought she must be hallucinating. The newspaper slid from her shaking hands.

Jared bent to pick it up, neatened the pages and handed it calmly back to her. He had a quiet smile on his face, as if this were the most normal encounter in the world.

Connie, checking round and seeing the shop was empty except for Mrs Mounce – who was fiddling with the cigarette packets on the shelves behind the till – hissed at him, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

Jared seemed a bit taken aback at her tone. ‘I … I just wanted to see you, Connie.’