I can’t wait to get home. I can’t wait to see the children. Hold them against me, skin on skin. My body ached for them, every hour of every day, last month.

We turn into Lexington Drive. Past the James’ house. Past the Naracotts’. The Taylors’ and the Carrington-Smiths’. People we only see at dinner parties. The handmade iron gate, full of swirls and crevices, swings open as we pull into the drive of Wellbeck House. What a difference it makes to control the iron enclosures. After so long in prison, Wellbeck House looks like a palace. Portland stone porch. Ornate stone mantels. High ceilings. High windows. I step inside feeling like a princess. Princess Saffron of the Lexingtons. This is my jewelled kingdom. And now that you are gone, I am about to be crowned Queen.

‘She’s here,’ Miles yells, stepping in beside me.

The boys come bounding into the hallway. Even though I have only been away a month, it has seemed like forever. They have grown. Ben looks slimmer than I remember. Eight years old now, nearly nine. Losing his baby fat. Lean and leggy. He has lost another tooth and the gap at the front of his mouth is bigger. Did Miles remember to ask him to leave it under his pillow, remove it, and put a pound coin in its place? So much to ask. So much catching up. He runs towards me and I hold him against me. I want to stay like this and press my love into him forever.

Harry is here, snuggling up between my arm and Ben’s head like a pushy puppy dog. My heart sings with love.

I look across towards the kitchen. Hayley is standing by the doorway. Slimmer. Elegant and sophisticated in a clinging soft jersey dress. High heels showing the curves of her calves and the thrust of her pelvis. Made up as if she’s about to go to a wedding or appear on a TV advert. She folds her arms, puts her head on one side and gives me a look. For a second I think she looks sanctimonious. But then her lips twitch, and burst into her usual broad smile.

‘Welcome home, Saffron,’ she barks in her New Zealand twang.

161

Hayley

‘Welcome home, Saffron,’ I manage through gritted teeth.

She looks so beautiful, like a delicate butterfly. I know I shouldn’t resent her, but I was so happy when she was away. Handing back the keys is going to be really, really difficult.

162

Saffron

The children are in bed. Hayley is upstairs relaxing in her room. Miles is cracking open a bottle of champagne in the drawing room. He pours the celebratory drink carefully down the side of our crystal goblets and hands me a glass. We clink our bubbles together.

‘To your freedom,’ Miles says.

We sit in antique chairs, on each side of our white marble fireplace.