They sat for an hour or so, drinking tea and looking out across the water while they discussed progress at the common and various possibilities for a job for Romy. Maureen was enthusiastic. She knew everybody in the local conservation world and thought there might be something going in the Arun Wetlands Centre.

Later, as they stood by the till, waiting to pay for their drinks, Maureen commented casually, ‘So sad about your army chap. We’ll miss him.’

Romy started, her heart bouncing out of rhythm as she asked, ‘Is he staying in Argentina, then?’

Maureen gave a surprised frown. ‘No, no. Didn’t you hear? He’s not long back, but now he’s off again, up to the Peak District to live with his stepdaughter, so Jenny tells me. She’s terribly upset, of course, losing her loyal fundraiser.’

Romy made a sort of choked hmm noise that might have been agreement, might have been just her clearing her throat – she was incapable of forming a reply. And Maureen, having shared the latest gossip, said a brisk goodbye and took off on her rusty bike, which she’d propped carelessly against the glass of the café window.

Romy stood alone in the lane, blinking in the bright autumn sunlight. That’s it, then, she told herself. Finch has gone.

55

In the weeks that followed, Romy found the miasma of the last few months gradually beginning to lift. Since leaving the flat, she’d seldom talked to Michael. And he never called her. At first she had checked in regularly with Theresa, who assured her he seemed to be managing, in a chaotic sort of way. Romy didn’t know what that meant in terms of his mental health, but she felt it was no longer her business. The gaps between her calls to Theresa grew longer as she turned her focus to her own life.

This morning she got up early and dressed in her running gear, pulling on her woolly hat and gloves and walking out into the chilly, pre-dawn light. Sunrise was not long away, the sky to the east already softly luminous: it was going to be a beautiful day. The tide was as far out as possible, the autumn air so still across the undulating brown mud that Romy could hear her heart thudding in her ears as she ran.

She stopped to take in the scenery. She made herself do this every morning now. Instead of just running for exercise – making it all about effort and physicality – she tried to give the hour a meditative element, to appreciate the beauty around her and let nature expand her mind. She was determined to develop mental strategies, until eventually they would be habitual and she’d become strong like her mother, calm, and look to the future with enthusiasm.