In fact…

Brody stared at his armchair. If possible, it looked shabbier than it had done before. He stared for a few seconds more, then walked over, picked it up by the arms, and wrestled it out through his cottage and into the yard, where he dragged it into a secluded corner around the back of one of the outbuildings.

Once he got it in exactly the right spot, he marched into the workshop, picked a plastic container of fluid off the shelf and returned outside. He unscrewed the lid, poured the barbecue lighter all over the upholstery and arms – silently thanking the gods that the chair’s age meant it was constructed of wood and metal and horsehair rather than toxic foam – and then he lit a match and tossed it onto the seat. The flames caught even before the match landed. He stood there, watching it burn, and a slow smile formed.

He felt the warmth of the flames on his face and chest, and he thought about Anna. He’d hoped that they could go forward together, but no matter what she chose, he needed to be able to do it on his own.

The armchair crackled as the flames began to eat through the upholstery and into the padding underneath. Brody turned and walked back across the yard towards his house.

Moving forward.

That meant he had a few phone calls to make.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

THE NEXT DAY, Anna arrived far too early at Tullet’s Garden Centre, having encountered a bewildering lack of traffic even for a Sunday afternoon in early January. She made her way to the café, ordered a latte, opened a reading app on her phone and settled down to wait. She’d managed three chapters of her novel by the time her phone pinged into life – a text from Teresa: ETA five minutes.

Anna carried on reading, every now and then glancing up to the end of the café that merged into the sales floor, and after a few minutes she spotted Teresa navigating her bulky pushchair through the display stands full of Wellington boots and gardening gloves. Anna stood up and was about to wave when she saw another figure alongside Teresa.

Gayle.

Their mother-in-law strolled behind Teresa, hair set, posture perfect. Gayle spotted Anna when they were about twenty feet from each other. She stopped briefly, her jaw tightening, then began walking again. It seemed that neither of them had been expecting an extra guest.

Anna turned to Teresa as she parked the pushchair beside the table. She was looking nervous but resolute. She gave Anna a hug, while Gayle stood stiffly by, then Teresa pulled out a chair and sat down. Anna looked across at Gayle, and Gayle looked back at her, and in the absence of any other ideas, they both sat down too.

‘Sorry for the subterfuge,’ Teresa began, but then corrected herself. ‘Well, maybe I’m not very sorry.’ She looked between Anna and Gayle, her eyes asking for understanding. ‘Something had to be done. We’re family… And family gets through things. Family doesn’t let stuff fester – at least, they shouldn’t.’