“Youdecided.”
“Well, itismy birthday—”
“It’s fine,” I interject before the tension can escalate. “Really. I was just taken aback.”
Ellenor looks between us, then she throws her hands up and heads inside.
I’m alone with Lily-Anne, who’s twirling a blade of grass between her fingers.
“So…this will be your last week,” I say quietly.
She nods. “Yes. It is.”
I force a smile. “It’ll be strange once you leave. It’s been nice having you here.”
Her fingers still for a moment before she glances up. There’s a hint of apology in her smile. “I’ll miss it here.” After a beat, she adds, too brightly, “But we’re not gone yet. We still have Whitstable Castle on Friday.”
I nod.
I had no idea when I booked that day trip that it would be our last day together. I even took the day off for it.
“Shall we finish the chapter before dinner?” she suggests.
Again, I nod, but I’m too distracted to concentrate. My chest aches with gratitude for the time we’ve had, but that feels like the tip of an iceberg of what could have been, already sinking out of sight.
Dinner is almost impossible to sit through. The sisters talk, excitement spilling across the table, but their voices blur into the background as mythoughts swim. The lasagne on my plate grows cold—I can’t seem to take a bite. I just sit there, dazed, feeling the walls drawing closer with every passing minute.
One more week, and she’ll be gone.
I shouldn’t be this affected, but I am.
It feels like someone’s pulled the rug out from under me. It’s an old, dizzying sensation I haven’t known in a long time.
For a fleeting moment, I catch the faintest trace of cigarette smoke. I glance towards the open window, but I don’t see Nova. Just the baked lasagne cooling.
For once, I will her to appear. I need her to tell me what this sinking feeling means.
I set my fork down, abandoning the pretence of eating. With mock cheer—and, if I’m honest, a thread of desperate hope—I say, “Well, given it’s your last day on Saturday, allow me to host a farewell lunch for you both. We can finally have those oysters I promised you, Lily-Anne. And I know Rupert and Barbara will be keen to give you both a proper send-off. We could invite Sean too.”
“Ooh, that sounds fun. I’ll pass on the oysters, though,” Ellenor says. “What do you think, Lil?”
Lily-Anne hesitates, and for one foolish, hopeful second, I think she’s weighing whether she wants to spend her last weekend here, with me.
Then she says, “Actually, I promised Willoughby I’d practice with him before the gig,” and the thought collapses in on itself.
Of course she’ll be spending it with Jack. He’s been monopolising her time all week. And though I know it’s only fair—sensible, even—to rehearse at the venue, I can’t quite ignore the flicker of jealousy that stirs beneath it. A feeling I’ve been careful not to give life to.
Until now.
It will be her last day, and selfishly, I want her close.
Carefully, resignedly, and with a touch more shrewdness than I’d generally allow, I say, “Jack Willoughby, of course, is welcome to join us. You could both practice here if you’d like.”
Lily-Anne’s face lights up. “That sounds perfect. I’ll go ask him. Thanks, Brandon!”
She rises to call him, phone already in hand, and I pour myself more wine, wondering if I’m the villain or the fool. The Claret swirls in my glass,a shade darker than her dress.
“Smooth,” Ellenor says to me, cutting a piece of my lasagne with her fork and popping it in her mouth.
