The lads. That all-encompassing term. She resisted the temptation to ask who was there. ‘Yes,’ she said, answering his question, although she wasn’t sure she would go for another run. ‘I’m heading back down to the pool now. Have a good evening, if it’s not too late and I’m not too tired I’ll give you a ring after dinner, okay?’

‘Okay, I love you.’

She rubbed a hand over her forehead. Was there a hint of overemphasis in those three words, as if he were trying to convince himself? Or was she stupidly overthinking again. ‘Love you too.’ Hanging up, she swung her legs up onto the bed and lay back against the pillows. Feelings of regret, worry and guilt were scrambled in her head. She closed her eyes, trying to shut the thoughts away and despite everything found herself drifting to sleep.

When she woke, eyes snapping open in confusion, it was almost dark. She brushed away the brief disorientation and sat up, her hand searching for the phone. Seven thirty. She swore softly. There had been no mention of meeting for drinks prior to dinner but she guessed that was the plan.

She’d not made it back to the pool. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she saw with a grimace that her swimsuit had soaked through her robe to dampen the bedcover beneath. It would dry without leaving a mark, she hoped, smoothing the cover out.

Ten minutes later after a quick shower, she tied her hair in a French knot and slipped on a silver-grey dress. She looked at her reflection in the mirror as she did her make-up and pulled back the creases around her eyes, wondering, not for the first time, if she should have a bit of work done. Dropping her hands, she turned away. Empty nest syndrome. There had been so much stress over Freya and Remi’s exams, then the excitement of the results and their move overseas. She’d gone with each of them in turn to help them settle in. Paris and Massachusetts had both been so exciting… then it was all over for her, she’d left them to it and come home to the same old, same old.

Old.

Was that what it all came down to? Menopause. Empty nest. All symptoms of what she should be seeing as the natural order of things; hormones were supposed to change, children were supposed to go out into the world and make their own lives.

Maybe she needed to take a page from Amelia’s book and grasp this different life with both hands, break out of the rut she was in and try something new.

It was worth thinking about.

8

When Molly went down, Amelia and Tristan were still in the lounge, an almost-empty glass in each of their hands. Amelia’s discontented expression brightened when she saw Molly hurry across the room. ‘Where have you been?’