She and Lissy continued walking, scanning the names on headstones.

‘How are things with Rav?’ Lissy asked.

Chloe shrugged. ‘I’m not sure yet.’

‘He’s good with Rose.’

‘He is.’

‘And he still loves you.’

‘He does.’

‘But maybe you need a fresh start.’

‘Maybe we do.’ Chloe kicked a lump of grass. ‘I know it should have a conclusion. An ending with a bow on it. Either back together, in love, having more babies. Or broken up. Over.’

But the truth was, they weren’t either of those things. He had been in her life for so long that she didn’t know how to be without him. And even if she had, she didn’t want to be without him. But she could never unlearn what she knew about him. It would always be true that Rav had something inside him which had allowed him to do a terrible, unforgivable thing. Could you forgive the unforgivable? Or could you learn to live with it well enough that you could be happy?

‘He’s having therapy,’ she ventured. ‘Has been for a while. Then I think we might try living together. I don’t know. Some days I want to get it all back, to be together soon enough that Rose won’t remember us apart. Other days I want to start all over again.’ She stopped. ‘That’s it,’ she said.

Lissy took the pram. ‘Take as long as you need,’ she said, turning away and pushing the pram back towards the church, little Claudia sitting on her hip.

The headstone was white, with neat black writing. ‘Zadie Elizabeth Henrietta Barber Lister, 1985–2020. Beloved daughter and sister. What we keep in our memory is ours, unchanged for ever.’

Chloe wondered who had chosen the quote. One of her parents, she supposed. Or perhaps a sibling. All those children who had tumbled around the house would be adults now. They would never have known Zadie as Chloe had, as a raging, laughing, burningly brilliant party girl. They would remember her as Astrid had described. Erratic. Unreliable. Unhappy. She tried to push away the memory. In order to say what she needed to say, she couldn’t feel sad for Zadie. She needed to allow herself her anger. She took out the flowers she had placed in her handbag. A little bunch of hyacinths she had grown herself. They smelled sweet and sharp. She placed them in front of the headstone, and then, having looked around to make sure that no one was there to see, she sat down on the grass.