Freddie let Paige go enough for her to walk in but clung on tight to her waist. Nick could see the taut skin of his white knuckles as he laced his fingers around her. Nick picked up the suitcase and brought it inside.

‘We did the tree today, Mum. You just missed it. We’ve got a real one. Look.’ Freddie whirled around, as excited as he had been that morning when they’d picked it.

‘Wow. It looks great. What made you get a real one?’

‘We fancied a change,’ Nick replied tersely. He placed the suitcase down behind the sofa and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. He didn’t know what else to do or what to say. Every thought running through his head was accusatory or angry and he didn’t want to expose Freddie to that. It was better he kept himself busy.

‘Bella always gets a real tree,’ Freddie said. ‘So we got one too. I love it. Don’t you, Mummy?’

He’d gone straight back to calling her Mummy and it hurt. He didn’t want Freddie to be angry with his mum. He wanted him to be happy to see her, to hold her and cuddle her. He didn’t want him to hold on to the hurt the same way he was, but in some small way it felt like a betrayal. Nick shook the thought away. He was projecting his own grown-up feelings. This must be confusing enough for Freddie.

‘Bella next door?’ Paige asked, turning to Nick. Was there something in her voice? A tone? An insinuation? He told himself to calm down.

‘Yes.’ Nick filled the kettle and flicked it on. The kiss flashed through his mind again. All his feelings of excitement and joy were fading fast and confusion took its place. ‘She’s helped sort out some stuff at school.’

‘Right.’ Paige turned her gaze back to Freddie and squeezed him again, but didn’t ask any more about it. Freddie pulled her on to the sofa.

Nick busied himself with finding the cups. Didn’t she want to know what had been happening? Didn’t she care what he’d meant? She’d missed so much: the end-of-term excitement of Moving On Day; certificates and awards. She’d missed the last day of term and the early finish. On previous years, Nick had always cut his day short, and they’d go to Witchbury for a burger, or if the weather was nice, they’d grab a picnic and sit on the green. She’d missed so many things, not all of them major and exciting, most of them were normal day-to-day things, but they were just as important, and he couldn’t forgive that. His irritation grew again, and he carried on with the tea.