‘We’ll make sure a place is set for you at dinner. No standing around with the rest of the heavies. And do you shoot?’

Out the corner of my eye I saw Frederick smirk.

‘Yes. Yes I do.’

‘Well, how about you share a peg with Frederick. You can get a few goes in.’

‘I’d love to. Thank you.’ I gestured round the grand room. ‘You have a beautiful home.’

He bowed his head slightly. ‘It may be our home for the moment but we are mere custodians for the next generation of Wycombes. It’s been in our family since the seventeenth century. If you look at the ceiling, you will see original engravings. We’ve just spent a fortune having them restored to their former glory. Something the National Trust wouldn’t be able to do with their dwindling budgets. No, the only way these grand houses can retain their glory is if the family who rightfully belongs in them remains in charge.’ He drew me to one side and motioned towards the tapestry on the wall. ‘This was woven by fifty local women a few hundred years ago. It portrays a battle that was held just twenty miles from here. This was the last standing port.’

I stared at the ugly tapestry in what I hoped was an appreciative manner.

‘When I think about the history of these many walls, I realise how truly privileged we are to be a part of its story. Blood, sweat, tears and . . .’ he clasped his chest, ‘love. I couldn’t give everything to this place if I didn’t love it as much as the child I hope to one day have.’

I made a note to never, ever compliment an Englishman on his castle again.

After a hearty lunch of game pie and mashed potato, I felt grateful that clean eating and no carbs had yet to reach the upper classes of Oxfordshire.

*

The air was crisp. The sky blue. I walked across green grass in picture-perfect Cotswold countryside, feeling the sun on my face, and took a deep breath in.

It was a beautiful day.

And Robin was gone.

We’d never see him again.

People walked alongside you. Until one day they didn’t.

It never got easier to accept.

I always thought I would die young. A fair enough presumption considering my line of work. It never really bothered me. But now it did. I didn’t want to leave Gigi. I wanted to see the person she was going to be, meet the person she might make a life with, hold the baby she may one day have. Everything that sounded so unappealing – the wrinkling, the ageing, the aches and pain – was irrelevant.