‘Sounds like bliss to me,’ I reply, but in fact disappointment skitters inside me.

Maria, his third wife. The reason he has been happier and less litigious lately. Maria is not good for my business profits. Before he met her he was becoming involved in a legal scrap almost every month.

Aristos finishes his breakfast and sidles off to enjoy his day. I do as he suggests and lie back on a sun lounger. The sun caresses my body and lures me to sleep.

I slip into a dream. A dream that seems real, so real. Floating in an azure sea. Unencumbered. I step from the sea, and walk along a white sand beach. Miles and Aiden are walking towards me.

‘I’m sorry to say our dear mother, Caprice, has passed away,’ they tell me in unison, eyes full of sorrow.

They both take my hand. Miles is on my left, Aiden on my right. We walk along the beach to a small church at the end of the cove. We step inside. It is your funeral, Caprice. Your coffin is at the front of the chapel by the simple stone altar, decorated with a small silver cross. Ben and Harry are standing at the front with Hayley. All your friends from bridge are here. And some of the school gate mums you socialise with. A lady vicar with a bell-like voice presides. Explaining we are here not to mourn a death, but to celebrate a life. The usual stuff. We sing a hymn – ‘Now Thank We All Our God’ – your favourite. Then some pallbearers who I haven’t noticed before appear from a side door and carry the coffin outside.

We stand, heads bowed, as they lower it into the graveyard, behind the church. I can hear waves lapping on the beach. Miles throws a red rose on top of the casket. It bursts open and bleeds.

My body jolts. I sit up on the sunbed and blink. And for a few minutes in the sweet transition between sleep and wakefulness, I really believe that you are dead, Caprice. For a second I feel light with freedom, like I did in my dream, and then guilt permeates through me. What is the matter with me? Why am I dreaming of your death? A death that would devastate Miles. But a death that would set me free.

15

Caprice

Tuesday morning. The house is quiet. The children are at school. Hayley is shopping. Miles is at the university supervising a tutorial. And, Saffron, you are standing in the hallway, just returned from your trip to Greece. Dishevelled and tired. Your trouser suit and face equally crumpled.

‘Welcome home,’ I say with a smile. ‘Can I get you a coffee?’

Don’t smile back. Don’t strain yourself, Saffron.

‘Thank you. And then I’ll have a quick shower and get straight off to the office.’