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‘AND…?’ Sennen snapped, finally looking up. Her eyes were swollen from crying.

‘Oh, love.’ Rita held her gaze. ‘Well, you said someone wasn’t treating you right. So, is it him?’

Sennen let out a sharp breath. ‘Have you thought about joining the Seahaven Bay Facebook Gossip Group? You’d be a powerful addition.’

Rita ignored that. ‘Sennen love…’

‘No. For your skewed record, I am not seeing Taran Brimble.’

‘Oh.’ Rita frowned, confused. ‘It’s over with him then, I take it?’

Sennen slumped back in her chair, groaned, then started again more slowly, as if forcing the words into a shape that made sense. ‘It was snowing last night, remember… I came down to the market late with Becca. I’d had a drink and thought I’d walk home. You know how much I love snow,’ she replied with a small, impatient shrug.

Rita’s mind flicked back, not just to last night but to older winters too, brief flashes of the farm and Sennen and Thom bundled up outside in the rare snow they ever seemed to get. Happy memories.

‘Oh. OK. I’m surprised we didn’t see you. But we did end up in the pub when it started snowing.’

Sennen continued with her explanation. ‘Taran was picking up Chloe, so he gave me a lift. That’s it. He won’t be doing it again, OK, so can you please just never mention his name again.’

Rita nodded slowly, but something in Sennen’s sad face made her stop pressing. There were other questions she wanted to ask, about the other times she’d seen her walking up the drive alone, late, quiet, like she didn’t want to be seen.

But not now. Not here.

Sennen stood suddenly, snapping her laptop shut. Papers and what looked like receipts went into her bag in a rushed, uneven sweep.

‘Mum,’ she said, already half gone, ‘if it makes you feel better, I swear on darling little Noa and Nathan’s lives I am not and never will be seeing Taran Brimble.’

The way she said the twins’ names made Rita wince more than anything else. Yes, her grown-up daughter had been sharp towards Jago before, but she had never considered that Sennen might feel anything like jealousy towards the new babies. Rita realised, with a quiet jolt, that she had been so wrapped up in new motherhood, she hadn’t stopped to properly notice what her older children thought about her new circumstance.

Across the room, Rita saw that Betty had drifted closer under the pretence of wiping down a table.

‘I have a meeting at the Polheron Hotel at three,’ Sennen added briskly. ‘So goodbye, Mum.’

The bell above the door chimed as she left, cold air rushing in behind her.

Rita stood for a moment, shell-shocked. She made her way slowly to the counter. Betty gave her a sweet smile.

‘Well. That went well then.’ Her gaze flicked briefly to where Sennen had been sitting. ‘She seemed happy enough when that Max Rogers was sat with her earlier.’

Rita opened her mouth, something sharp ready on her tongue, but she stopped herself. No need to feed it. She exhaled instead, long and controlled, and placed her order.

FORTY-ONE

By the time Rita was back at the farmhouse and had sorted the twins, it was nearly time to head out for the legendary quiz night at the Winking Pilchard. She pushed the worry about her daughter to the back of her mind and sent Chloe a quick message to see if there was any chance she could work tomorrow. Overnight, she could decide the best way to handle that situation. As for Thomas, it felt easier, for now, not to confront him, not when she was still hurting.

She would enjoy the night with the retreat crew, try to keep her drinking sensible so her head stayed straight, though with Kelly as her wing woman, that was never going to be easy.

The kitchen looked like she’d been burgled after Kelly’s babysitting shift. Half-eaten gingerbread men and cinnamon buns were strewn across the table and scattered across the floor beneath the highchairs. Pasta had somehow made its way onto the chairs, along with sticky handprints, squashed raisins and a lone sock that definitely hadn’t been there before.

Upstairs, Noa and Nathan were finally asleep after what Kelly had described as ‘an organised campaign against bedtime’ involving two screaming toddlers, one missing muslin and Nathan learning a new name in ‘Kel Kel’ and to her friend’s delight repeating it a million times before he would settle.

Now downstairs, Kelly leant against the worktop with a glass of wine in hand, watching Rita pace between rooms for the fifth time. ‘What on earth are you doing?’

‘This is the first time I’ve had to call Hilda in to babysit.’ Rita was on a roll. ‘Chloe is ill… evidently… and Sennen and Thom can’t, for reasons I will explain later. Jago’s dealing with an emergency with one of his sheep and is waiting for the vet at his place.’

‘Stop circling like a worried seagull; it will be OK.’ Kelly took another huge slurp of wine. ‘Here, let me pour you one of these.’

Rita ignored her and peered into the fridge. ‘Do you think they’ll need another bottle made up?’