“You’ve nothing to worry about there, then. As far as I’m aware, children don’t think that their parents ever had a life before them.”

I waited for her to smile her response, but one never came. I realize now—after talking things through with Christian—that I wanted to give her space. I couldn’t imagine what she felt like, or what she was going through, so when she appeared wistful, I’d go silent and hope that by just being there for her, it would offer some comfort. Maybe that’s why I didn’t push for specifics. Who knows?

We each lit a candle and stood there watching the wax soften as I wished for her to live. I imagine she did the same.

“I’m sorry, Marie,” she said.

“What for?”

The church door opened, and this time, we did see a man enter. The moment was lost.

The pain in my chest aches all the way up through to my jaw, and I give into the tears. She was apologizing for the secret she kept from me. And I didn’t realize. Fresh anger reignites at Camilla. It was because of her that Nina was put in the position of having to withhold information, which clearly went against what she felt was the right thing to do.

It’s gone midnight when I hear Stuart return home. Outside, the wind builds up. I can hear the branches of the New Forest trees swaying and the cries of night creatures. Foxes? Owls? Inside, quiet, apart from the odd creak. I hear him come upstairs, slightly louder than usual. His door shuts.

I creep downstairs to check on Goldie, who really is a chill dog. She opens her eyes but doesn’t move from her bed in the corner. I made sure it wasn’t too cold or too warm. I’ve been warned that there may be an adjustment period of up to three months while she susses things out and that she may sleep at lot at first because it was so noisy with all the dogs constantly barking at her previous home. Mainly, however, it’s all about trust, love and routine. Sounds easy enough.

I turn on the kettle. Goldie seems fine with that. Phew. I open a cupboard and rummage through a pack of mixed herbal teas until I find a chamomile one, which promises me a good night’s rest.

Stuart’s wallet, house and car keys lie on the kitchen counter, a sign that he must’ve had a good few drinks. As I wait for the flavor to infuse, I open his wallet and flick through, craving some form of intimacy through a little more knowledge or insight into him. We haven’t slept together again. It’s concerning. We’ve fallen back into our friendship as if it never happened, and I’m at a bit of a loss as to how to steer us back in the right direction. A little knowledge can’t harm.

The first thing I find is a picture of Nina on their honeymoon, which evokes mixed feelings. Envy, a little, of course, but it would also feel callous of him to discard any memories of her overly soon, so it also reinforces my belief that he is decent. There are the expected pictures of the children, including the most recent school pictures. A parking receipt for Heathrow airport: dated today for around the time Camilla and Louise were due home.