‘You guys are making me feel really stupid,’ Penny announced. ‘This feels like an ambush and I don’t know what about, except that I feel a bit like I’m in trouble.’

As soon as she said it she felt a wobble in her throat. She’d been like this for ten days now, since Francesco had walked out. She felt guilty he’d gone, panicked about getting a replacement for him, sad that she’d made him sad, somehow like she’d failed … And here her sister was, making her feel an inch tall for reasons as yet unknown.

Rima and Charlie parted. Clementine took off her coat.

‘Sit down,’ Clementine said. ‘Charlie, is it okay if Rima helps you make some tea?’

‘It’s not an ambush,’ Clementine repeated, sat beside her sister.

‘So why do I feel overwhelmed when I should just be pleased to see you?’ Penny asked, glumly. It was obvious she wasn’t okay.

Clementine reached out for her hand. ‘I should have told you. I’m sorry. I was just worried you’d tell me not to, and I figured it was easier to get forgiveness than permission if you were feeling …’

‘Shit,’ supplied Penny, fiddling with a salt shaker.

Clementine nodded. ‘Charlie mentioned you’ve been a bit upset. They weren’t gossiping about you, I swear. I called to book a table for Uncle David’s visit, because you weren’t replying to my voice notes. I specifically asked if you were okay, because not hearing from you was scaring me. You always tell me everything, and since Francesco left you’ve told me nothing.’

Penny shrugged. ‘Nothing to tell,’ she said, when what she meant was: how do I even begin?

They drank their tea and ate their biscuits, and eventually Penny said: ‘I miss him.’

As she blinked, a tear spilled over and ran down her face. She used her fingers to blot it away and the others didn’t say a word, knowing that on the verge of confession the best thing to do is simply listen.

‘I just …’ Penny looked around the room as a way to distract herself. It was getting lighter noticeably later recently, and the promise of spring – her year’s end – was near. And then what? She felt like she’d thrown a hand grenade into her time in Havingley. She’d wanted to leave proud of what she’d done in transforming the place to its fully-booked, profitable incarnation. Now she’d leave knowing that above all else, what she’d done was get distracted by a bevy of men, like a horny teenager, and spoiled everything she had with each of them.

‘I guess …’ She looked up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t know …’ Now she looked down again at her lap. Clementine stood and moved to sit beside her.

‘It’s shit that Francesco has gone,’ she supplied. ‘I can’t imagine how that must feel.’