Jonathan had gone to the trouble of manipulating my life to ensure that I would never have what the folk filling the pews before me did. He had been so determined to have me to himself that he had twisted and tortured my already fragile family connections until they tore in two and because I had trusted him, I had believed every lie he had fed me without question. I had a kept a lid on my emotions all day, but the atmosphere in the church was too stirring to ignore. My poor parents.

I felt tears began to gather and slipped out of the church, into the star-studded darkness and out of sight of the door. There was little comfort to be found in the cold crisp air and I let my tears flow unchecked, my hand covering my mouth to stifle noisy sobs.

‘Hattie?’

I sniffed, but didn’t answer. I didn’t want anyone to find me like this.

‘Hattie,’ came the voice again, closer this time. ‘It’s me, Beamish.’

‘I know it’s you,’ I snivelled, furiously wiping my face with the back of my hand.

‘What are you doing out here? Are you all right?’

I shook my head and he pulled me into his arms. He didn’t say anything, he just held me, safe from harm. Eventually I stopped crying and my body relaxed into his. I slipped my arms around him and squeezed tight. In that moment, wrapped in his all-encompassing embrace, it felt like the safest place in the world. I lifted my head from his chest.

‘Sorry,’ I swallowed, looking up at him and then at the tear-stained patch on his coat.

Not that he knew it, but I was apologising for so much more than crying all over him. He loosened his grip but didn’t let go.

‘Is this anything to do with what you said you wanted to tell me?’ he asked.

I nodded.

‘And there was me thinking it was going to be good news,’ he tutted, now rooting about in his pocket one-handed for a packet of tissues.

‘It is,’ I said, taking the pack and breaking the contact between us. ‘It is good news, just a bit overwhelming, that’s all.’

‘Go on,’ he encouraged.

I blew my nose and took a deep breath.

‘I’ve had an email from my mum,’ I told him. ‘She and Dad want to see me.’

Beamish laughed, the sound cutting through the chill air.

‘But that’s amazing, Hattie!’ he grinned. ‘Why on earth would you be crying over that? I thought you’d be over the moon.’

‘I am,’ I nodded. ‘I am really. I suppose I’m just a bit nervous about it all.’