She nodded. Soon, she was going to sell the gleaming prison Nick had built for her, and move into a flat in town. When I asked her what it was like, the one she’d viewed today, I knew she’d rave about the mullioned windows or cornices, and not a word about stairs or transport links or boilers. Bless her, she wasn’t very practical, Suzi. Not ideal for a single mother. But I thought that, in her usual style, she wouldn’t be single for long. The places she’d been viewing were all quite near to Dr Holt’s little bachelor pad. And once Nick was declared dead, she’d have his life insurance, his pension, all their savings. It had turned out pretty well for Suzi, whether she deserved it or not. As for me, I had gained nothing. I couldn’t have, really. Revenge was a zero-sum game, I knew that now. At least I had some stake in Issy’s future, and hopefully, a friend for ever.

But I had one more thing to do before I settled back into my life, and tried to move forward. I was only forty-two – there was still time, and now I knew that the reason for my childlessness was not me. It could happen. I had hope, if nothing else, but that small spark was enough to hold back a world of darkness. First, though, I would book a ticket to a small town in Spain, one with an English pub that served Newcastle Brown Ale.

Maddy

Maddy

APRIL

With the coming of spring, life had returned to La Tornada. Tourists once again wandered into the bar, eating battered fish with obvious relief that it didn’t have its head still on, standing in front of the big screen gaping at football matches back home. Maddy worked hard, scraped ketchup-spattered plates, pulled pints, smiled. But she couldn’t stop thinking about Sean. They’d kept each other company all through the dead winter months, her sneaking off to his flat in the harbour every time she had a spare moment. They’d watched films, played board games, gone for walks on the beach, and of course more. Maddy blushed when she thought about the more. But then he’d gone. The messages suddenly stopping, no answer at his door when she went to knock, ashamed at being so needy.

She honestly thought he’d come back, and every day for a week she’d made an effort with her appearance, ready to be aloof but forgiving when he came into the pub, but there was no sign of him. Ghosted, by someone too old to even know what that meant. At least she hadn’t told anyone about the relationship.