‘I admit the treatment and disappointments affected me,’ she said, stiff with dismay that Alex, of all people, should write her off as ‘fragile’. ‘It’s also true that being assaulted as a teenager left me with a wariness over personal safety. It made me reluctant to come back here – but I am here. Grady and Mac both live in the village and I’m dealing with that, not cracking up. Rea and Daisy need me more than I thought but I’m dealing with that, too.’ She thought of the different Daisies she’d seen today: the desolate one going to school; the radiant one bursting into the studio; and the one who’d cried with relief in Laurel’s arms.

Alex gave a little groan. ‘Oh, Laurel. Don’t get too caught up. What about the travelling you’d planned? You owe it to yourself—’

Her temper flared. ‘The one person in the world I owe something to is Rea and, by extension, her lovely daughter. It’s not up to you to judge my situation. We’re not married anymore, Alex.’

Stiffly he replied, ‘I see.’ So polite. That was Alex’s way. He hadn’t appreciated her mini outburst, plainly, but didn’t snap back.

She sighed. ‘Sorry. That was snarky. But you began this conversation by asking how we’re going to do this. Well, I vote we don’t critique each other’s choices.’

‘You’re right.’ Now he sounded remorseful. Laurel knew exactly the small, wide-mouthed grimace he’d make as he called himself to account. ‘It’s just I know how it messed you up—’

‘Alex,’ she said, warningly.

It proved quite a short conversation. Short in length and short in temper. Odd, Laurel reflected, as she put away her phone. They’d gone through the deeply emotional trying-to-get-pregnant stuff together without a single cross word.

Chapter Ten

When Laurel stepped inside The Three Fishes she had to pause to absorb the sheer profusion of tiny white lights twinkling along every beam, around the pillars of the bar and in and out of the glasses above. The Christmas tree was smothered with them. They glimmered from behind the optics, turning whisky and brandy to glowing amber and Bombay Sapphire gin to a clear, luminous blue.

Grady’s voice distracted Laurel from her admiration of Middledip’s answer to Santa’s pub. ‘Hi, Laurel.’

She turned. ‘Oh, hi. I was transfixed by the bling.’ She was disconcerted to hear herself sounding breathless. It must be the icy evening air she’d breathed as she crossed the road from Great End. She unwound her scarf and slipped off her coat, glancing around. Nearby occupants of the small circular tables sent her genial smiles and Gabe and Bertie waved from stools set at the furthest point of the bar.