I let myself in through the back door. Stuart and the children are up, but they’re not alone. Camilla and Louise are sitting around the table with them, eating pancakes. Maple syrup, honey, lemons and sugar gather on the surface.

Who invited them over? Probably Suzanne. She’s chatted to Camilla at the school gates, they’ve shared memories of Nina. I’m not impressed with the casual way Camilla acts like she’s a part of the family. I appreciate she’s a link to Nina, but still...

Suzanne is in front of a frying pan at the hob, clutching a spatula. She is wearing an apron that belongs to me. I don’t like the overfamiliarity of it. I don’t know why, but it feels wrong. I wish I was brave enough to ask her to take it off, but obviously, I can’t.

“Morning,” I say in such a cheery voice that it doesn’t even sound like mine.

“Morning,” several voices chorus.

I avoid Stuart’s gaze and he me. Big mistake. Camilla stares at me as if she can tell. It’s a schoolgirl error to ignore the object of your affections. I make a cappuccino, taking my time over the frothing of the milk before I sit beside Stuart.

“I hope you or the children didn’t hear me go out early this morning,” I say. “I couldn’t sleep, needed some fresh air.”

“I didn’t hear a thing,” he says.

I turn my attention to the children. “You two were brilliant last night,” I say.

“My play is next week with the older classes,” says Louise.

“I’ll come and watch if you like,” I say.

“No need,” says Camilla. “Two nativities a year is above and beyond.”

“It’s not a nativity,” says Louise. “That’s for the younger ones. Mine is a proper play.”

“I’d really love to see it,” I say.

“Very thoughtful of you.” Suzanne beams over at me. “Marie, love, we were just talking about how it might be a good idea for Camilla to move into the guesthouse when we leave,” she says. “It seems silly that she’s paying a fortune in rent while she finds her feet back here and Lulu will be wonderful company for the children. Such a lovely girl, a natural with little ones.”

Camilla does a commendable job of acting the innocent, her expression full of oh, goodness, I don’t want to be any trouble, I wasn’t hinting, yet she’s clearly taken advantage of Suzanne’s trusting nature, carefully worded a few hints and run with it while I’ve been briefly out of the picture.

Thankfully Stuart intervenes. “Mum, these are the types of issues that need more discussion.”

Stuart hardly ever snaps.

Oh. It’s about last night. He wants me out. If Camilla rents out the other place, it’s harder for him to ask me to leave. I feel sick. From the corner of my eye—I daren’t look—I sense rather than see Camilla’s expression. She’s playing a game. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

I decide to back Stuart up, to make him realize that I’m sympathetic to the situation. “Although commune-living has its advantages, I’m not going to be here for much longer either. I guess we all need to find our way in the big, bad world.”