In the end, after speaking to Val and Nancy, to Noah, and to a child psychologist on Noah’s ward, she’d decided that she’d talk to Buddy about Max right from the start, so that he’d know who his dad was and how much he was loved. When he was old enough to understand, she would tell him the story of how his father had passed away, but she would never reveal who Max was with or why. Buddy didn’t need to know that. She’d much rather he always regarded his dad as a decent, loving man, taken far too soon.

  Talking of decent men… she picked up her mobile and called Noah, but it went straight to voicemail.

  ‘Hey, Noah, it’s me. Just checking in with you to see how your day is going and how your chat with Anya went. Maybe you’re still having it.’ That thought gave her goosebumps of fear. ‘Anyway, everything is fine here. Don’t worry about calling me back, because I know you’re going to your mum’s for dinner. Oh, and that advice you gave me earlier? I took it. I’m going out with Rex tonight. Only mildly terrified. Actually, that’s a lie. Definitely majorly terrified. I’ll buzz you later, but if you need me, just call. Love you.’

  She hung up, deflated. She’d wanted to tell him about her own encounter with Anya, to find out how his conversation went with her, and to check in with him, to hear his voice and know that he was okay.

  Another ripple of anxiety pulled at her gut. What if he took Anya back? There. That was it. The question that she’d been trying to avoid all day. What. If. He. Took. Her. Back? She tried to shrug off the notion. To reunite with Anya, he’d have to end his relationship with Cheska and Tress didn’t see him doing that. Although, it did surprise her that Noah and Cheska were still keeping things so casual. Not that it was any of her business, so she kept out of it. All she knew was that Cheska was great, Noah was a catch, and she hoped they’d work it out, almost as much as she hoped that he would say goodbye to Anya for the second time and that she would stay away.

  Assuming, that was, that Nancy was being honest when she said that Anya was no longer on Noah’s porch when she got there. However, she’d returned twenty minutes later, minus Val, whom she said had gone home to relieve the carer who came in to look after her husband, Don, one day a week, so Tress had no corroborating evidence the ladies didn’t encounter Noah’s ex-wife. Anya could, right now, be tied up in the boot of Nancy’s car, praying for a SWAT team.

  ‘What’s that smile on your face for?’ Nancy asked, as she came back into the kitchen after running a hoover round the rest of the house. Tress had tried to stop her, but it was hopeless – Nancy would tell anyone who would listen that hoovering was her favourite way of getting her daily steps in.

  Tress would never stop being grateful for this saint of a woman who was now waiting for an answer.

  ‘I was thinking there’s a good chance Anya is in your boot.’

  Nancy put her hands up. ‘You’ll never find her. I’ve watched every episode ever made of Silent Witness at least twice. I know how to hide the evidence.’

  Tress played along. ‘Excellent, because Buddy doesn’t need to be visiting his aunties in jail.’ After scooping Buddy out of his highchair, she perched him on her hip, and grabbed the bottle she’d made up for him earlier. ‘Come on, little man, let’s go soak the spaghetti off.’ She kissed the tip of his spaghetti-blotched nose, before adding to Nancy, ‘I’m just going to give him his bath, and then I’ll put him down. Wee soul is rubbing his eyes already. You and Val definitely tired him out today. Are you sure you don’t mind staying with him tonight? I can easily cancel.’

  Nancy was already washing down Buddy’s highchair. The woman was a cleaning machine. ‘Oh no, don’t you dare try to squirm out of this one, Tress Walker. You’re going out on this date whether you like it or not and don’t be trying to use me to get out of it.’

  Tress was equal parts amused and anxious. ‘I’ve almost texted him at least a dozen times. Is this what it feels like, Nancy? Getting back out there?’

  Nancy stopped cleaning to think through her answer. ‘I don’t know, love, I really don’t. After my Peter died… well, I didn’t think I’d ever want to be with anyone again. And then Johnny came along…’ Johnny had been a friend of Nancy’s husband, Peter, when they were teenagers, and she’d met him again at a Weirbridge High School reunion the year before. ‘And something just felt so completely right. I don’t understand it and I can’t explain it. I think there’s just something that happens when your heart is in charge.’ Tress got lost for a moment, letting the profound wisdom and loveliness of Nancy’s words sink in, until she added, ‘Or it might have been vodka that was in charge. The fruit punch at that school reunion nearly blasted ma heels off.’

  ‘Greeting card companies should know about you,’ Tress laughed, shaking her head and thinking about the sweet part of Nancy’s words as she went off to track down Buddy’s pyjamas. Did her heart tell her that Rex felt right? No idea. But it did tell her that one date wasn’t going to kill her, so she was as well giving it a try, since Nancy was determined to stay here and binge-watch a few more repeats of Silent Witness.

  An hour later, Buddy was bathed, jammies on, in his cot and she’d read him five pages of House Beautiful magazine. It was the closest she came to multitasking, because she’d realised that she could read anything at all to him and he had no idea what she was saying. She just made sure she voiced the new trends for window dressings and wallpaper in a soft, sing-song voice and he went to sleep happy, while she was left with gorgeous new ideas for bedroom curtains.

  Should she really be going out tonight? Most people facing the anniversary of the loss of a loved one would have been mourning today, maybe visiting a grave or a garden of remembrance. Tress had done neither of those things. In fact, after his cremation, she’d allowed Max’s parents to take his ashes back to their home in Cyprus so that they’d always have him with them. He was an imperfect husband, but to them, he was their only son and it had felt right to give him to them. She wanted no physical place of rest here that would make her feel guilty for not visiting. There was a happy picture of Max in Buddy’s room, but no room for starting painful annual mourning traditions, especially not on her son’s birthday.

  As soon as his breathing told her he’d nodded off, Tress leaned down and kissed his forehead, then stroked the side of his cheek. ‘Goodnight, little one. And happy birthday,’ she whispered. ‘Just so you know, I’m going to make sure you have a wonderful life, because I love you with my whole heart.’

  He murmured and then exhaled, his perfect little rosebud lips turning up at the edges. Probably gas, but she was going to tell herself that it was because he understood every word.

  She could hear Nancy singing a bit of Shania downstairs when she went into her room for a quick shower. When she got out, Shania had transitioned into a power ballad by Celine. Apparently, Nancy’s heart would go on. Tress wasn’t so sure about her own.

  Okay. Deep breath. What was the dress code? What did someone wear for their first date in years? And, even worse, what did someone wear when they were going out with Rex Marino, sexy TV actor, almost ten years younger than her, and touted by some Scottish newspapers to be the next James Bond?

  She threw open her wardrobe doors and saw a sea of black. It was pretty much all she wore even before she was a widow in mourning.

  Three hangers came out, three went back in. One out. One back in. Three pairs of jeans were tried and discarded until finally she abandoned all notions of trying to be trendy and went for classic instead.

  A black crepe oversized tuxedo jacket, slimline trousers in the same fabric, a silver silk V-neck body suit underneath, high stiletto boots and finished off with the Valentino bag Noah had bought her for Christmas. She thought about compression knickers but changed her mind. She was anxious enough without adding a ten-minute wrangle with spandex before she could pee. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail, leaving some tendrils down to frame her face. A bit of make-up, a squirt of Chanel No 5 and she was ready.

  In the living room, Nancy cheered when she saw her. ‘Well, hello!’ she exclaimed, taking in the suit and the hair and the heels. ‘You look gorgeous, pet. You really do. It’s lovely to see you all dressed up.’ Nancy choked on the last word, and Tress immediately felt tears spring to her bottom lids.

  ‘Don’t you dare make me cry, Nancy Jenkins.’

  Nancy was fanning her face by this point. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, but there have been times over this last year that we were worried you’d never remember how it felt to get a bit of lippy on and go enjoy yourself. Another month and me and Val were going to take you to singles night at the bingo. Apparently, there’s at least three men under fifty there.’

  Tress swallowed the lump in her throat and managed to regain her composure. ‘Well, if I’d known that I’d have got dolled up and dragged you there months ago.’

  ‘There’s still time if this one doesn’t work out. I’ve heard one of the blokes still has his own teeth. Anyway, stand there a minute so I can take a photo. I told Val I’d send her a pic of you in your glad rags. And also, you know, it’s good to have in case we need to give it to the police to help identify you. I really need to stop watching Silent Witness.’

  Nancy picked up her phone and snapped away, and Tress indulged her by making faces at the camera. When she was done, Nancy pinged a few more buttons, then tossed her phone on the couch, and changed the subject. ‘Did you manage to get a hold of Noah? I can’t stop thinking about him with that Anya one. Honestly, that lassie has got some nerve on her.’

  ‘I’ve tried, but it just keeps going to voicemail. I’ll try again in a wee while.’ Tress was cut off by the sound of an incoming text. ‘That might be him now…’ She glanced at the screen. ‘No, it’s Rex. He’s outside.’

  Nancy crossed the living room like a stunt woman half her age to get to the window for a good look. ‘In the name of the flash git, has he brought two cars? There’s a sports car outside and a big fancy black limo thing further down the street next to my house.’

  Tress peered out. She could see Rex’s red Ferrari, and then the limo just on the other side of Nancy’s house. The streetlights above it were out, so it was impossible to see inside. ‘No, I think he’s in the sports car. The McKelvies on the other side of you must have posh visitors.’

  ‘I’ll be round at her window first thing tomorrow morning to get the gossip. If Hilda McKelvie has won the Postcode Lottery, I want to be first in the queue. Right, pet,’ she gave Tress a hug. ‘Have a brilliant time. And if you want to make it a sleepover, you go ahead. I’ve got my nightie and my slippers in my bag and Val is coming back round in a wee while to keep me company.’

  Tress returned the hug, shaking her head. The last thing she had on her mind tonight was staying over with Rex Marino. The very thought of spending the night naked next to anyone scared her to death. Terrified her.

  And she was going to ignore the little voice in her mind, saying that maybe that was the best reason to do it.

  23

  NOAH

  ‘No.’ His one-word answer was calm but unequivocable.

  ‘But, Noah…?’ Eyes pleading, she leaned forward, put her hand on his and he very calmly but quickly pulled it back.

  He cut her off. ‘Anya, I’m sorry,’ he said as gently as he possibly could. This was the same voice he used when delivering awful news to patients. Calm. Lay out the facts. Have compassion, but don’t give false hope. ‘It’s no. It’ll always be no. There’s no world in which that will change.’

  She sat back in her chair, and he could see by the way she exhaled just how much it had taken for her to come here and say that.

  However, there was a bigger part of him that questioned her timing. It made sense that she’d come back to Scotland on the anniversary of the accident. There was something significant in that. One year. A turn around the sun. Closing the door. Moving on. But to come to him with this? Why would she even consider it a good idea to do that? Today had just as much significance for him. How could she possibly think he’d be open to picking that scab on today of all days?

  Or perhaps that was the point. Maybe she thought he’d be vulnerable today.

  Or maybe that hadn’t even crossed her mind, because, just like 365 days ago, when she had headed to a country hotel with Tress’s husband for a last weekend of secret sex, maybe she was only thinking about herself.

  Well, no. Not today.

  In fact, not any day.

  ‘Noah, please… I’m not saying move back in together. I just mean start slow… see where it goes. We had almost twenty incredible years together. Surely that must mean something?’

  ‘It didn’t to you.’

  She flinched like she’d been slapped and he felt a tug of regret, then pushed it to one side. No false hope.

  ‘I deserved that. But Noah, I can’t live with the guilt. It eats me up. Every. Single. Day. It’s the first feeling I get every morning, and the last feeling I get at night, and I can’t stand it. The guilt. The regret. The desperation to make it right, to have you back, to show you that I love you.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Noah, I explained earlier, there were reasons that I did what I did…’

  ‘Anya, stop!’ His words were so sharp, they cut right through her argument. He took twenty pounds out of his wallet and placed it on the table for their drinks. ‘I’m going to go now because there’s nothing else to say. We’ll only start going over everything, re-litigating it all and doling out blame, and I think even your therapist would tell you that’s unhealthy. I wish the best for you, Anya, I truly do…’ He saw tears spring to her eyes when he said that. It was always the same. It wasn’t heartache that was the most upsetting thing to deal with. It was the kindness and sympathy that people showed when you were at your worst. That’s what broke down the walls that people put up to protect them from pain. ‘I hope you find what you’re looking for and get the life you want to live.’ His tone was still calm, firm, quiet. ‘But it won’t be with me. I’m sorry.’

  He wasn’t sorry for his response, but sorry because she’d come all this way and it had been a wasted trip.

  On the way to the door, he gestured goodbye to a surprised Carlo, then just kept right on walking. If this were a romcom, he’d realise the error of his ways and rush to the airport five minutes before her flight took off to tell her he’d changed his mind and he loved her and they’d all live happily ever after. This wasn’t that. This was goodbye. Anya had pride and she had dignity, and most of all, she knew him well enough to believe that he wouldn’t change his mind. Something deep in his gut told him that this was probably the last time he’d ever see her or speak to her. And that was fine. He was good with that. If there was anyone he’d rush to at midnight, and beg to stay, it would be Cheska. Could he honestly let her go? She was someone very special to him, and he was letting her walk away.

  Jesus, what a day. He had absolutely no idea what he wanted any more, but he just knew that there was somewhere else he needed to be right now.

  He left the restaurant, got into his Jeep and began to drive.

  It took half an hour to get through the rush-hour traffic, but he didn’t mind the drive. Gave him a chance to think, to try to process everything that had happened to him today, although there were two things that kept coming to the surface again and again. The first was Cheska’s ultimatum. What a blindsiding moment that had been and he still hadn’t even begun to process it. And the second thing? Tress’s potential relationship with Rex. He couldn’t let her get hurt again, but she, of course, had to make her own choices. He just had to be there in case this guy was another asshole who didn’t keep his promises.

  His car seemed to know where it was going, because he’d paid barely a thought to pointing it in the right direction and yet now it was pulling into the street he’d intended to come to.

  He picked up his phone to take it with him and realised it was out of charge. He had no idea how long it had been that way. Last time he’d looked at it was when he was going into the restaurant to meet Anya, and, as always, he’d switched it to silent so any calls wouldn’t piss off the other diners. His mind might have been slightly too occupied to check it when he left the building.

  He put it in the glove compartment and jumped out of the car, making sure the Jeep was locked so none of the little toerags in the village could make off with his phone, his backpack or his laptop.

  Crossing the pavement, he wasn’t surprised that the gate was locked. It had always been controlled by the local councillor who probably figured that nothing good ever happened in a park after dark.

  He remembered telling Tress about this place when she was in labour, a year ago right now. At that moment, she couldn’t understand why Max hadn’t responded to her calls and texts telling him the baby was on the way and she was in the delivery suite. She’d had no idea it was because he was in the next building, his life ebbing out of him. Noah hadn’t told her because he didn’t want to risk her or the baby’s health, didn’t want to rob her of the joy of giving birth to her first child. Instead, he’d held her hand, told her anecdotes from the past.

  He climbed over the gate, found his favourite bench, let his mind stray back to that night again, as he’d desperately tried to keep Tress’s spirits up. He’d told her how he and Max used to sneak into this park when they were kids, living in houses they could see from the gate he’d just jumped over. This had been their favourite hangout all through their childhood and teenage years and they were rarely out of it, so it was the place where he still felt closest to the past, to Max, to the life they’d all had before the crash.