Starlight Over Bluebell Castle. Sarah Bennett

Not that it mattered, she’d decided to be open about it when it was clear things with Steve were beyond repair. She’d never been great at hiding her feelings, and once they understood the reason behind it her colleagues had given her a wide berth on the mornings when she’d turned up red-eyed from lack of sleep and too many tears. ‘Getting there.’

      He gave her the ghost of a wink before turning away to respond to some banter flying from the other end of the table, giving her the opportunity to study him from behind the shield of her wine glass. He’d rolled the sleeves of his blue and white checked shirt to his elbows, revealing tanned forearms that spoke of many hours spent outdoors. His hair was longer than she’d seen it in a while, the shaggy curls tangling in the back of his collar. A hint of five o’clock shadow dusted his chin the way it always did at this point in the evening. It struck her then that perhaps it wasn’t the sort of thing a woman ought to know about a man who wasn’t her husband.

      Embarrassed, she looked away only to meet a knowing look from Michelle. With the slightest curl of her lip, the receptionist tilted her head to whisper something to the girl next to her, eyes never leaving Jess’s. For a horrible moment Jess was back in that toilet stall listening to Michelle bitch about her having a crush on Tristan.

      Instinct had always pushed Jess to avoid confrontation and she’d submitted to the subtle bullying of messages not passed on, post misfiled and myriad other little snipes from this woman for years. She’d always told herself she was rising above it, that the lack of respect didn’t matter, but it did. It always had, but she’d never done anything about it, too afraid to rock the boat. But this wasn’t her boat any longer, was it? Michelle would never again ‘forget’ to book a meeting room for her because come Monday morning Jess would be trying to comfort her boys as she waited for her parents to arrive and help her pack their belongings.

      Part of Jess wanted to wail about the unfairness of life, to curl up in a quiet corner and sob over her situation, but a larger part of her was angry. Angry that she and Steve hadn’t been able to find a way to stay together; angry that his plans were having such a drastic knock-on effect on her; angry at the thought of being trapped once more under her mother’s loving, but oppressive thumb. Marcus had always been the golden child, and Jess had accepted her role in the background, adoring him as she did. After his death, all that expectation he’d been unable to carry had fallen upon her shoulders. A burden she neither wanted, nor quite knew how to shrug off.

      She’d been swallowing this anger for weeks, not wanting to upset the children or descend into pointless rows with Steve that would do nothing other than hurt them both even more than they already were, and now it felt like she would choke. Letting it push to the surface, she locked eyes with Michelle and let all the contempt she felt for the woman rest in that look. It didn’t take more than a few moments before Michelle lowered her head.

      Reaching for her glass, Jess gave herself a little toast of victory then drained half of what remained in there.

      ‘Can I get you another?’

      It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse Tristan’s offer, but she gave him a smile of thanks instead. ‘Yes, please.’

      The food Tim had ordered arrived as Tristan returned with their drinks and everyone tucked into the platters of sandwiches, bowls of chips, onion rings and other calorie-laden treats. Conversation ebbed and flowed, much of it led by Tristan, and she was content to settle into the background and let the evening wash over her.

      After the first couple of hours, people started to drift off, home to their families, or in the case of one group on to the bright lights of the West End. They’d done their best to persuade Jess to join them, but she’d never been one for crowded pubs and clubs even in her university days. There were maybe a dozen people left and Jess had finally been able to escape from her position at the back of the table for a well-needed bathroom break. While in there, she loosened her hair from its restrictive bun to scrub her aching scalp before tying it up in a messy ponytail. She freshened the light lip gloss she favoured, although she had to squint one eye shut to focus properly on her reflection to do so. Time for a soft drink.

      The bar was busy, and she was still waiting for the server who’d given her a nod of acknowledgement to make his way towards her when someone nudged her arm. ‘Alone at last.’ Tristan’s grin looked a little wonky, maybe she wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of the free bar.

      ‘Apart from the fifty people standing within about five feet of us.’

      ‘They don’t count.’ Turning his body to stand sideways onto her, he propped an elbow on the bar effectively shielding them from the rest of their group sitting beyond him. ‘I was really sorry to hear about you and Steve.’

      ‘Just one of those things.’ She tried for levity but missed by a country mile. ‘Seems like we’ll both be living back home.’

      Tristan gave her a sad smile. ‘But I’m the only one of us doing it by choice, right?’

      It would be simple to let him believe that, to indulge in her earlier need to bemoan her fate and soak up the sympathy she knew he’d offer in abundance. But that wasn’t right. She wasn’t a child, nor a passive participant in what was happening in her life. The decision for Steve to quit a job he hated and that was slowly destroying the laughing spirit she’d loved in him since they were little, had been made together. In fact, Steve had been the one to argue against it, knowing how hard it would be for her to move back home – even for a short while.

      ‘It makes the most sense,’ she said to Tristan now, echoing the words she said to Steve at their kitchen table months earlier. ‘Steve wants to go back to university, and I fully support his decision to do so. I’ve got a couple of interviews lined up next week, so it won’t take me long to find another job.’

      ‘I thought you were taking a break from work?’

      The question surprised her. ‘No. Why would you think that?’

      Tristan shrugged a shoulder. ‘When Charlie said you’d turned down his offer to work remotely, I just assumed, I guess.’

      God love Charlie, he’d been beyond understanding, and it had been very tempting to accept his offer. But the kind of work she did required too much face-time with their clients and she wouldn’t be able to do as good a job as the company deserved, which she wouldn’t be able to cope with. Jess liked to do the best she could – needed to feel like she was doing a good job. And, no, she didn’t need a shrink to tell her where that desire to please came from.

      ‘I wouldn’t have been able to give work the attention it deserved. Elijah will be starting school full-time, and both he and Isaac are going to need me around until things settle down. Isaac’s too little to really understand what’s going on, but poor Elijah is the apple of his daddy’s eye. If Mum and Dad lived closer, I might have found a way to juggle everything.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s not a permanent move and I’ll take stock at the end of the year. The jobs I’m applying for are both part-time. It’ll make things tight, but we’ve got some savings and not having to pay London rent prices makes a difference.’

      The barman finally made his way to her and she ordered a bottle of sparkling water before asking Tristan what he wanted. ‘I’ll take a bottle of alcohol-free beer, please.’

      Drinks in hand they made their way back to the table to find the group had thinned out a bit more. Taking a free seat at one end Jess took a long, cooling drink of her water and started to feel a bit less tipsy. Not wanting to pursue their conversation at the bar, Jess waited until Tristan slipped into the seat beside her and then began to question him about his future plans. ‘How many guests do you think you’ll have at Christmas?’

      Tristan sipped his beer from the bottle. ‘Not sure, yet. As many as I think we can cope with and still give them an individual experience. We’ll do a few bigger group things, Christmas dinner, of course, and Midnight Mass at the chapel for those who want to participate. But I want each person to feel like they are spending time with family and friends rather than being just guests who I’m trying to screw a load of money out of.’ He laughed. ‘Not that