I finish the call and feel immediately lighter – my dark mood, lifted. Richard does still want us to live with him and is even considering other options if neither of our houses sell fast enough. For the moment, I can’t see what the back-up plan could possibly be apart from renting a house in Kent while we wait. But that was one of the options we’d thought of and discarded due to neither of us having the extra money.

Perhaps Richard has found another way.

Or, he’s stalling for time too …

I try not to let this last thought overlay the previous one. I need to feel hope right now.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Amber

I pop to the shop to buy some sweets for the boys as a treat, then drive straight to the school and park up. I’m greeted with a few nods from other parents as I walk though the school gates and make my way to the playground. I stand under the large, wooden gazebo just outside Leo’s classroom. Finley’s class is situated at the upper end. He usually hangs around near the top of the field for me and Leo to reach him.

The door opens and children begin filing out, coats on, bags dangling. At the infant end, the teachers always ensure the children have their coats on and all their belongings before they line up to exit the school. I watch a sea of little faces as they pour out. Leo is never first, but not usually quite the last pupil to emerge either. But today it seems he’s going to be last as I think all the children have left now. I walk towards the door just as Miss Emery comes out with Leo at her side. His head hangs, and he scuffs his feet as they make their way to me. I sense I’m about to be confronted with an issue.

‘Hey, Leo,’ I say, ruffling his hair. ‘What’s up, love?’ I ask, then direct my attention to Miss Emery.

‘Why don’t you go and stand with your brother? He’s over by the field,’ Miss Emery says to him as she gently nudges his shoulder. Leo does as he’s told. Silently. I brace myself. Something is obviously very wrong for her to be sending him away so she can speak with me alone.

‘I don’t wish to worry you, Mrs Miller—’

When someone begins a sentence with those words you know worrying is exactly what you should be doing. ‘Please, just Amber,’ I say.

Miss Emery gives me a quick glance. ‘You and your husband’s separation – has it caused a lot of upset?’

I bristle at the suggestion, even the fact the separation has been brought up, but try to keep any irritation from my voice when I respond.