She checked her phone. No new message from the private investigator. She shouldn’t hope. Paul was gone along with all her materials and finished pieces, and she couldn’t divorce him until they’d been married a year in April. Until then she was his wife thanks to UK divorce law. She shuddered then rubbed her neck to try to relieve the tension. Now was not a good time to let her thoughts tumble into a dreaded circular spiral. A walk would help.

The last light from the evening sky was hidden under the cover of the trees and the large camellias lining the path. But she knew this route so well, she could walk it blindfolded. It held so many memories. She strolled on, picking up the scent of the eucryphia. She stopped. A few trees were missing, and through the gap she could just make out the funny angle of the Judas tree. It was here by this tree that she had met Alex for the first time. It had been knocked over in a storm twelve years ago but it kept on growing, thanks to Alex and Gramps who had pushed it as upright as they could. Gramps said it was the tree of love, but she knew otherwise. Two years later she and Alex had said their parting words there. Or more correctly she had said the most awful things she could think of, wanting to hurt him.

Closing her eyes, she saw it all. Her friends from school were in the house. Alex had stormed out the back door. She’d chased him, grabbing his arm. ‘Look at me.’

‘Why should I? You’ve been all over John.’

She frowned. She had been leading him on a bit, but it was because Alex was being so . . . so bloody stupid. She loved him, but he’d gone all weird and monosyllabic with her friends. She hoped that by encouraging John a bit, Alex would sit up and take notice.

‘It’s clear you’d rather be with him.’

‘If you act this way . . . then I might.’ She crossed her arms.

‘Well go right ahead.’

She opened her eyes wide. ‘I thought you loved me.’

He raised an eyebrow.

‘If you did, you’d fight for me.’

‘Is that what you want? Local boy up against posh rugby boy.’ He huffed.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re just not man enough to deal with this.’

He turned from her.

‘The way you’re acting, you’re just not good enough.’ She crossed her arms.

He looked at the house, shook his head then walked away.

She’d watched him disappear into the garden then she’d rejoined the others, still simmering with frustration. A few hours later when almost everyone had settled in the smoking room, she slipped back out into the garden for air. A few friends were playing croquet in the dark and John was one of them, which was a relief.

Turning left, she went up the long path. There was enough of a breeze to stir the tops of the trees but close to the ground all was still, except her head. It was swirling slightly. She didn’t normally drink so much. However the fresh air was helping. But it didn’t take away what she had done. How could she have been so mean to Alex? He was more than good enough, he was everything she ever wanted. She’d just been vain – leading on John, wanting the attention.