‘Why don’t you show me where the baby’s room is going to be?’ Lorna suggests, hoping to cheer Saffy up.

Saffy’s face brightens and she leads Lorna into the hallway and up the stairs. ‘We’re going to get a runner up here but we can’t decide on one. Maybe natural wool . . .’ she shrugs ‘. . . or something.’

At the top of the stairs they turn into the little bedroom. It’s no more than eight feet by nine, with a fireplace on the left wall, but Lorna can see it would make a perfect nursery. It’s empty at the moment, other than a few boxes stacked in the corner. The carpet has been ripped up to expose the floorboards and the wallpaper is faded. But as soon as Lorna steps into the room she’s overcome with a sense of déjà vu so strong she has to hold on to the windowsill.

‘What is it?’ asks Saffy, alarm in her voice. ‘Are you okay?’

‘It’s just . . .’ Lorna turns towards the window, which overlooks the back garden. She can see the purple tree from here. It only stayed purple in the spring and then the leaves would turn green, falling off in the winter. They used to carpet the lawn. She turns and reaches out to touch the wallpaper. She remembers. She remembers lying in bed in this very room and trying to decipher face shapes in the rosebuds on the wallpaper.

Lorna turns to her daughter. ‘I think this used to be my bedroom.’

9

Theo

THE GRAVE IS LOOKING BARE. THE YELLOW ROSES THAT Theo placed there last week are already brown and wilted. The hot weather must have speeded up their decay.

‘Your dad hasn’t been again, then?’ says Jen, at his shoulder, voicing what he’s thinking.

‘Are you surprised?’ he asks, trying to keep his voice light.

Theo’s wife raises her well-groomed eyebrows in answer. She squeezes his arm gently but doesn’t say anything. He knows she doesn’t like his father – and why would she after the way he is with her? – but she never bad-mouths him. She hands him a bouquet of brightly coloured blooms that they bought on the way here. ‘I’ll leave you alone for a bit . . .’

‘You don’t have to.’

‘I know you like to talk to her.’

He flashes her a small smile. ‘You think it’s weird.’ He’d told her once, early in their relationship, then instantly regretted it. He didn’t want her to think he was some sad mummy’s boy.

‘Of course it’s not weird. I just wish I’d had the chance to meet her.’

‘She’d have loved you.’ And she would have. Everyone does. Jen is instantly lovable with her effervescent personality and her warm nature. Straight away she puts you at ease.