Starlight Over Bluebell Castle. Sarah Bennett

blowing up entire lives.’

      Circling her ankle with a hand, Steve gave her a little squeeze. Hugging was too awkward now, but those urges to comfort each other didn’t just vanish overnight. ‘Because we want something better.’

      ‘Because we deserve something better.’ It was the conclusion they’d reached together in those long, painful hours when they’d been coming to terms with the truth about their feelings for each other. ‘But what about what we’re doing to the boys?’

      Releasing her leg, Steve sat back with a sigh. ‘They’re young enough to adjust. We just need to give it a bit of time.. Isn’t this better than spending the next twenty or thirty years together when our hearts aren’t truly in it and destroying each other with a million tiny acts of bitterness?’

      She knew he was thinking about his own parents then. For all she wished her folks would be a bit more honest with each other, she’d never once doubted the love they had for each other unlike the icy war of words that raged constantly under the roof of Steve’s childhood home. Though they seemed to have reached something of an entente cordiale lately, the Ripleys had rowed constantly when she and Steve had been growing up. Part of the reason Steve and Marcus had become such close friends was Steve’s desire to escape from the toxic atmosphere his parents had created.

      After Marcus died, she’d been so desperate for something to hold onto as life imploded around her, and Steve had been there, warm and familiar, and just as in need of comfort. They thought they loved each other enough to hold on forever, but they’d been wrong. Or perhaps it was because they still loved each other just enough, that they knew it was time to let go.

      Bracing his arms behind him, Steve dropped his head back to stare up at the ceiling. ‘Or maybe that’s the lie I’m telling myself, so I get to be selfish.’

      Now it was her turn to offer comfort. She rubbed her foot against the edge of his. ‘We only get one go at this, and archaeology has always been your dream, Indy.’

      He laughed at the old nickname he’d given himself at ten years old after the BBC had shown the first three Indiana Jones movies over Christmas. Steve had been mesmerised by the wise-cracking, whip-cracking hero and his love of archaeology had been born. ‘God, those films have a lot to answer for.’

      ‘Including your love of all things beige,’ she teased, poking the leg of his chinos. When Marcus had been experimenting with hair dye and piercings, Steve had stuck rigidly to khaki and beige, as though any moment he might be summoned on an adventure to the deserts of Egypt, or the jungles of South America. Jess had skipped the experimental stage all together – her brother had done more than enough rebelling for the both of them. Even after all this time, the memory of him pricked sharp like a needle. ‘No more calling yourself selfish, okay? We made this decision together, in the best interests of our family.’ They’d both hear enough of that particular accusation when her parents arrived tomorrow.

      He nodded. ‘United front.’ He held out his fist and she bumped hers against it.

      ‘United front.’

      They returned to their chores, but the previous easiness between them was lacking as the reality of their choices pressed a little closer. This was the last night the four of them would spend beneath this roof. Her gaze strayed to the freshly painted wall beside the door where they’d drawn marks on the wall to record the boys growing. She closed her eyes. It was just a wall; the memories of those moments were what mattered, and she would carry them in her heart forever.

      A couple of hours later, she sealed the final box of toys that were being donated to a local charity and lifted it on top of the half a dozen others also heading for a new home. ‘Are we giving away too much?’

      ‘Given the fact the keep pile is about three times the size of that, I’m going to say no.’ Steve climbed down from the stepladder he’d been using while he cleaned the top of the wardrobe and folded the dirty cloth into a small square. ‘I think that’s this room about done.’

      There was no helping the lump in her throat as she glanced around them. The little beds looked too bare. She’d wanted to take the bunk beds to her parents, but her mother had refused, saying there wasn’t room, that the boys would be fine to top and tail in the second guestroom until Jess got herself back on her feet and had her own place again. A place close enough for Wendy to be able to keep an eye on the boys, and her too, Jess suspected.

      ‘You look done in,’ Steve said, dragging her thoughts back to the present once more. ‘Why don’t you go and have a bath and I’ll check on the boys? There’s no point in loading anything up until the morning.’ Although Steve wasn’t taking any more than he could fit in his car – a cheap second-hand runaround he’d purchased after returning his company car – they’d rented a small trailer and attached it to the estate car they’d invested in after Isaac’s birth when the logistics of transporting all the paraphernalia of two small boys proved too much for their old hatchback.

      ‘That sounds like a good idea, I might just do that.’

      ‘And I’ll order a takeaway.’ He checked his watch. ‘The Szechuan Palace is open until ten, so there’s no rush.’

      Jess let him usher her out of the bedroom and towards the bathroom without protest. She was pretty much at the end of a very frayed tether and could feel the tears that always gathered when she was tired, or angry, or hungry, or just about anything on the emotional scale these days. Crying was a default she’d always hated and did her best to fight, but damn it she was exhausted.

      Avoiding the bathroom mirror, she began to fill the tub, adding a squeeze of Matey bubble bath because she wanted the comfort of the bubbles but everything of hers bar the absolute essentials was already packed. She was swishing her hand through the water to build them up when a soft knock came at the door. Steve was in the hallway, holding a glass of white wine so cold it was already covered in condensation. ‘I decided we both deserve a drink,’ he said, showing her the open bottle of beer in his other hand. ‘Kids are out like a light.’

      ‘Thanks.’ She accepted the wine, feeling awkward because they were now people who knocked on bathroom doors. How many nights had they spent chatting with one or other of them perched on the toilet lid whilst the other soaked away the trials of the day? The tiny threshold strip of metal holding down the carpet separating them felt as wide as the ocean. She turned away, not wanting Steve to see her cry, knowing this was part of the mourning process and not true regret.

      ‘Jess.’

      She froze, not daring to turn around in case it allowed any regrets he might be feeling to intrude, then cursed herself for a coward. ‘Yes?’

      ‘That stupid idea of yours? I think you should do it.’

      This time she did turn. ‘You do?’

      He shrugged. ‘Why not? When else are you going to get the chance to do a job you know you’ll love and live in actual castle at the same time?’ His enthusiastic grin was infectious. ‘Imagine the history in a place like that! And it’s like you said, the boys will have all that space to run around and explore.’

      ‘It’ll be disruptive. Come the new year I’ll be back where I am right now.’

      ‘Maybe, or maybe you’ll have had time to work out what it is that you want from life. You can say as many times as you like that we’re making the decision to split together, but I’m moving on to something positive, and I just wish there was a way for you to be doing the same.’

      ‘If I’m up in Derbyshire, it’ll be harder for you to see the boys.’ One of the many reasons she’d agreed to move in with her parents was to be close to where Steve was doing his course at Exeter University.

      ‘Stop putting everyone but yourself first, Jess.’ There was real exasperation in his tone. ‘So what if it’s inconvenient for me? So bloody what?! This is a brilliant opportunity for you. All you have to do is give yourself permission to take it.’ A thin, high wail came from the main bedroom, Isaac disturbed by his father’s