both of his cheeks. It was exactly the way she had greeted me when Leo had first introduced me, with enthusiasm and delight, apparently oblivious to the chaos of a house move going on around her. Now she was oblivious to the awkwardness around her – or perhaps she wasn’t, and this was her way of dealing with it. Whichever it was, it worked. Ethan rose and shook Clark’s hand, Ava and Jonas mumbled a greeting, and Mum inclined her head to acknowledge his presence. And Leo looked so proud – of Clark, of Audrey, of all of us – that I had to dash into the kitchen to get a grip on my emotions, terrified that the achievement of not having cried since my dad left thirty years ago might be about to come to a loud and messy end.
Christmas lunch was a triumph in a culinary sense, despite my having siphoned off a bottle of Prosecco for my own use, whose contents vanished with mysterious speed. A combination of alcohol and Audrey helped smooth the rough edges off the awkwardness we all felt; with the exception of Ava, who wasn’t allowed a drink, and my mother, who was genetically programmed to wallow in awkwardness wherever she could find it.
It was impossible not to notice the parallels between this and my first meeting with the Blacks all those years ago; impossible not to think how bizarre it was that I should witness my mother-in-law getting to know my replacement. We learnt that Clark was forty-one, the same age as Leo; that he had two parents, two sisters and four nephews. We found out that he was the Donor Communications Manager for a famous children’s cancer charity based in Manchester, a job that he described with humility, enthusiasm, and compassion. We heard that his hobbies were films, cycling, and cooking. But above all else, I discovered that he was an intelligent, amusing, lovely man. I liked him. I had no idea if that made things a thousand times better or a million times worse.
After dinner, Ava pulled out the box of Trivial Pursuit for the traditional game of everyone trying to beat Leo. I ducked out this year, letting Clark take my place, and went to tidy the kitchen, finding simple pleasure in restoring order in the one area I could. Noise and laughter floated down the hall.
‘What are you doing?’
Ethan followed me into the kitchen and pushed the door shut.
‘Tidying up.’
‘I don’t mean in here.’
I knew exactly what he meant, knew what he was going to say, and it was one of the reasons why I had spent the whole of Christmas Eve out shopping, so that there was no danger of this conversation taking place. I grabbed a pile of cutlery, and fed it into the dishwasher with as much rattling as I could manage.
Ethan touched my arm.
‘Mary.’ I ignored him. He grabbed the cutlery from me, threw it in the basket and slammed the dishwasher door closed. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘With me?’ That riled me. How was any of this my fault? ‘Nothing.’
‘That’s my point. Leo’s about to leave you, and you look about as bothered as if you’d run out of milk.’
‘Of course I’m bothered! I don’t want him to go. Would you prefer it if I stayed in bed and cried into my pillow? Or if I shouted abuse at him and cut up all his suits? Do you think that would help Jonas and Ava?’
‘It might help you. It might show Leo that you do actually care, and that he has something to stay for.’
‘Me being me isn’t enough to make him stay, is that what you’re saying? That I’ve driven him away? Thanks for that vote of confidence.’
‘That’s not what I meant …’
‘And what makes you qualified to give me advice on relationships, with your two failed marriages and string of ex-girlfriends?’
Perhaps I had gone a bit far with that one – his second wife had been unfaithful, according to Audrey – but what right did he have to stand in my kitchen, berating my indifference? I knew some people would find my reaction odd, but I thought Ethan knew me better.
‘I know exactly what you’re doing. You block out things that are difficult, pretend they’re not happening. It’s what you’ve always done.’
‘That’s not true!’
‘What is it then? Some grand sacrifice for Leo? You love him, but you’re letting him go? Listen to me, Mary. It’s not heroic or noble to do that. It’s the wrong choice. If you want something enough you should carry on fighting for it, even if you get knocked down a thousand times, and no matter the collateral damage. Don’t condemn yourself to a life of loneliness and regret.’
He gazed at me then, and it was as if he’d ripped open that confident jacket, and shown me someone entirely different underneath. I didn’t know what to say, and was spared having to say anything when Leo walked in. He looked from Ethan to me, and back to Ethan.
‘What are you saying to her?’ I had never heard Leo’s tone so sharp.
‘The truth.’ Leo’s head jerked back as if Ethan had struck him on the chin. ‘I told Mary that she needs to fight to keep you.’
‘Do you have a problem with Leo being gay?’ I asked. There had always been tension between these two, but this level of animosity was new.
‘Not in the slightest. I only have a problem with him deciding he’s gay now, years after marrying you.’
‘I haven’t made the decision. I met Clark, and I can’t ignore what I feel for him.’ Leo stared at Ethan. ‘You can’t help who you fall in love with. You should understand that.’
And Ethan, whom I had never before seen lost for words, simply shook his head at Leo and walked out.
The envelope arrived on a cold day in late March during the Easter holidays, landing on the doormat with a thud that I heard from the kitchen, and which seemed to shake the entire house. I didn’t need to open it to know what was inside. I didn’t want to open it and make it real. I left it on the hall table, pulled on a coat, hat, and wellies, and took Dotty for a walk.
The footpaths around the village were quiet as I trudged through the slushy remnants of the snow that had fallen earlier in the week. It was mid-week: work would have deterred some of the usual dog-walkers, the bad weather many of the others. But Owen Ferguson emerged from the front path of a neat stone terrace as I passed, and hesitated, as if deciding whether to force his company on me or to turn in the opposite direction. I smiled and he must have made up his mind, as he fell into step beside me as we headed towards the centre of Stoneybrook.
He was wearing a black beanie hat, very much like one I had bought for Leo a couple of years ago. It suited him. His greyhound was wearing an extraordinary hot pink quilted coat, with a zebra print trim.
‘It wasn’t my choice,’ he said, acknowledging my vain attempt to disguise my surprise. ‘I inherited it.’
‘A dog jacket? That wasn’t a generous legacy. Lucky you had a dog it fits.’
‘I inherited the dog too. It was a complete package.’ He quickened his pace to keep up with me; Dotty was either eager to complete our circuit and get home, or determined to beat a greyhound. ‘My neighbour adopted her from a greyhound rescue charity, but then was diagnosed with a terminal illness. I agreed to take on Lucilla.’
‘Lucilla?’ I tried not to laugh: it was a perfect name for the aloof animal, but I couldn’t imagine Owen calling for her in the park.
‘She won’t answer to anything else. Or wear any other coat.’
‘What colour did you want her to wear? Navy blue like the Broadholme uniform?’
He grimaced. ‘Anything but that. Are your children not with you for the holiday?’
‘Ava’s at Pony Club, and Jonas is revising with a friend,’ I said. ‘Do