“Nina passed on plenty of top tips. Bookings will pick up once I get more fully involved. Come spring and summer, we’ll be turning people away.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that it was your fault.”

“I know.” I touch his arm reassuringly.

“Daddy, come over here! Spin the roundabout fast!” yells Emily, waving frantically from the middle of the park.

Stuart obediently ambles off in her direction.

I email Deborah, hinting that Stuart needs more help organizing Christmas, and offer suggestions, things that I don’t want to get involved in, like ordering a turkey, providing up-to-date relatives’ addresses for Christmas cards and choosing which charities she thinks Nina would’ve liked to support this year. It’s a gentle nudge away from my chosen projects.

Another random parent has taken up spinning duties, so Stuart and I return to our bench. The cold seeps through my jeans. I couldn’t think of practicalities, like gloves, when I left the house this morning so I blow into my cupped hands to warm them.

“A longer time frame gives you and Ben time to sort out practicalities, split your assets surely?”

“Our place is rented,” I say, concentrating on my cold fingers. “We have separate bank accounts.”

“Oh.”

Stuart lives in a world where everyone owns a home.

“Ben and I... Well, it’s bad. I didn’t tell you everything. His new girlfriend, she’s pregnant.”

“What the...? That’s shocking. Ben seemed like a straightforward guy. I’m really sorry, Marie. That’s...harsh.”

“It is pretty crap.”

We sit in silence.

“He even had the audacity to ask if he could keep our cats!” I start to laugh and find I can’t stop. Stuart does, too, until we are both laughing so hard that I clutch my stomach. It’s such a wonderful release.

“He doesn’t love her,” I continue, when I manage to catch my breath. “I know because he wants to continue to rent our place on his own while he considers all the best options. He’s in shock.”

“How about...?”

“Yes?” I jump in, praying that Stuart is going to suggest what I think he is.

“How about if you move into a spare room temporarily? It would help us both out, and when my parents leave, we have another chat?”

“If you’re sure?”

“It seems like an obvious solution.”

“What will people think?” I ask.

Stuart mulls it over.

It is a real concern because it’s obvious what people, especially Deborah, will think. I need to play this carefully, Stuart is still protected by numbness, assumes that sympathy to his plight will remain. It won’t. If he breaks “the rules,” he will open himself up to local public dissection. Being under the spotlight is only welcome if it’s positive attention.

As a teenager, I learned this the hard way. Thankfully it was during the years before social media. I don’t think I could have coped with having a silly, tiny, white fib of mine publicly dissected. It was bad enough outside the humanities block at break time surrounded by nosy classmates. As they laughed and probed, I had a choice: to confess or brazen it out. I chose the latter. I stuck to the story and insisted that I had gone to a vague friend of a friend’s party the previous weekend, even though I hadn’t. Afterward Nina said to me privately that there was no point in lying. She was wrong. There’s always a reason for lying.