Liza grinned. “Actually I was going to thank you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. For encouraging me to do something I wouldn’t have done without a nudge.” She watched as Popeye basked in the sunshine. She never made time in her life to do nothing. Why was it that a busy life was valued more highly than a quiet one? She’d spent so long sprinting between tasks that she’d forgotten how to stroll. A moment of inaction made her feel stressed and guilty.

“I wasn’t sure you’d do it. Or at least I thought you’d take Sean.”

Liza finished her wine. “It didn’t work out that way.” There was a long pause. “Mum? Are you still there?”

“Yes. Liza—is everything all right?”

It was so unlike her mother to ask that question, Liza almost spilled the wine. “Everything is fine. Why?”

“Nothing. Ignore me.”

Why did it feel as if she was missing something? “Are you okay, Mum? Did you call for a reason?”

“I was worried about you, that’s all.”

Liza had to stop herself checking the number on the phone. Was this really her mother? “You called to check on me? Why? You’re not usually a worrier.”

“I worry about many things. I worry about leaving this earth before I’ve done everything I want to do. I worry about Popeye. I worry about whether I should have had that old apple tree pruned.”

“Wrong time of year.” Liza glanced at its thick gnarly bark and spreading branches. “I’ll make a note to remind you in the winter.”

“What did you think of Finn?”

“He was—nice.” It was an inadequate word, but also a neutral description that wouldn’t invite further questioning. If she’d described him as charismatic, charming, or sexy—all of which would have applied—the conversation would have gone down a route she didn’t want.

“He’s nothing like the rumors.”

“I realize that. We had a good chat.”

“What about?”

Life. Her painting. Creativity. A hundred things she hadn’t talked about in ages.

“Nothing in particular.” And as well as being charismatic, he was possibly the world’s best listener. “The house is spectacular.”

“It’s the garden I love. And the pool, of course. And those beautiful dogs.”

“I had no idea you knew him. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kathleen laughed. “I thought you’d lecture me on having unsuitable friends.”

Liza felt an uncomfortable pressure in her chest. Was she really that bad?

“I’m sorry you feel you have to censor things you tell me. If I nag you, it’s because I love you.” She knew her mother didn’t feel comfortable with demonstrations of affection, but she felt the need to say it.

“I know you do, dear.”

Liza held her breath. Waited. Hoped. “Are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

But she wasn’t going to say it back.

Liza knew she should have accepted that by now. “How’s Martha? Where are you both now? It must be, what—” she checked her phone “—ten o’clock in the morning where you are?”