Trembling, she got up. Devan was angrily brushing tears from his cheeks with his palms. ‘Devan, please …’ she said softly.

He glared at her, but the light of fury was fading now and she saw only a weary sadness in his eyes. Emboldened, she walked round the table before she’d had time to consider the possible consequences and circled him in her arms. Devan did not respond at first, just stood there, like the solid, unyielding trunk of a tree. He began to cry softly, his head gradually sinking to her shoulder, his arms slowly wrapping round her body. They stood there, two exhausted and traumatized people, clinging together for what seemed like a lifetime. She didn’t feel safe or comforted, though, as she always had in Devan’s embrace. It was as if they represented to each other the upturned hull of a shipwrecked boat – a slim chance of survival. If I let him go, she thought, we might both drown.

‘I hate feeling like this … so much,’ he said, when he finally lifted his head.

‘I hate it too. These have been the worst weeks of my life.’

She waited for a sneering riposte. But Devan merely nodded as they gradually loosened their grip on each other.

Seeing him to the door, watching him slowly buttoning his coat, she held her breath in the hope that he would say something about seeing her again. At the last minute, he turned to her: ‘We can talk on the phone?’

She nodded, gave him a smile. He frowned, then his face cleared and he smiled back. It was a drained smile, but their eyes met. It was the connection she’d been longing for. A kiss or a hug was more than she could expect, but his smile was enough for now.

As soon as the door was closed and locked behind him, Connie flopped down on the sofa and took great gulping breaths, as if for the first time since Devan’s arrival. She felt battered, but there had been some progress, she thought. Worn out, she fell into a numb, bone-weary sleep. It was two sharp beeps of an incoming text that woke her a couple of hours later. Not, as she hoped, from her husband. But Caitlin’s message was almost as good: Seems like things went well with Dad. He’s looking so much better! Talk when he’s gone home tomorrow xxx

32

‘I’m going to miss you,’ Tessa said, as Connie dragged her wheelie-case up the stairs from her bedroom into the hall. ‘You know you’re welcome any time. For a weekend or if you need a bolthole again.’

Connie gave a wry smile. ‘My life’s so bloody bonkers, these days – anything’s possible.’ She hugged her friend tight. ‘I can’t thank you enough, Tess. You’ve been my absolute saviour. I genuinely don’t know where I’d be now without your incredibly generous hospitality.’