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“Yeah.” Mark sighs. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Surrey man all the way, hey?” Hattie asks, teasing. Mel knows Kristen and Mark moved to Surrey just after they got married—partly to be nearer to Susan, for help when Freya came along.

Mark chooses to ignore this. “Just look at us,” he says instead, gesturing around at all of them, then the general surroundings. “We’ve become those people—a bunch of boring old couples out on the town.”

Kristen rolls her eyes. “Oh, thanks so much, baby. Love you too.”

He strokes her arm. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Hattie scoffs. “Speak for yourself. I am neither boring nor old—and I’m pretty sure I’ll never be either.”

Mel is finding it hard to concentrate, to remember what lines she should have. She can feel Finn’s heartbeat against her back, can feel his fingers, trailing their way lightly up the outside of her thigh. Barely a whisper of a touch—casual, rather than seductive—but that doesn’t stop her blood heating as it hums through her veins, her pulse dropping unhelpfully to between her thighs.

She stands abruptly and his hands move from her instantly, making no attempt to keep her there. She doesn’t look down at him as she says to the table at large, “I’ll get us another round.”

“I’ll help,” Kristen says, getting to her feet, too, and following her to the bar.

Mel orders a wine for herself and Kristen joins in with requests from the table. Mel lets out a long slow breath. But it doesn’t do anything to shake the feeling of Finn’s fingers on her thighs—it’s like the ghosts of them are still there, taunting her. Maybe that means he wins, after all.

“I’m worried about Freya,” Kristen blurts out.

Mel glances over to where Kristen is biting her lip, looking a little flushed—like the one mulled cider might already have gone to her head.

“I’m sure she’s fine with Susan,” Mel says.

Kristen shakes her head, red hair bouncing. “I don’t mean tonight. I mean in general. She’s bored.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose it can be hard to keep them entertained over the holidays.” She’s heard people say that before, though she feels like a fraud for repeating it—she has no idea, does she?

“No. Well, yes—but it’s not that.” Kristen blows out a breath. “She’s lonely. I think she’s lonely.” Kristen fixes Mel with a very direct stare. “You were an only child. Were you bored and lonely?”

“Ah…” This feels like rocky territory—she’s not sure there’s a right answer to give here.

Kristen squeezes her eyes shut, and Mel moves forward, laying a hand on her arm. Around them, the music swells, and someone on Mel’s side jostles through, so Mel isn’t quite sure she hears Kristen right when she whispers, “I’m pregnant, Mel.”

“You…” Mel stares at her. “Ah…Congratulations?” Though Mel can tell by the way Kristen has said it that it’s not something she is currently celebrating.

“Mark doesn’t know.”

“Oh.”

She blows out a long, slow breath. “It’s so exhausting, Mel. What if I can’t do it again? What if it takes even more of myself? Is that selfish? It is, isn’t it? Freya is so lonely—a sibling will be good for her. Were you lonely, as an only child?”

Okay, this is way too much for Mel to handle, and she is grateful when the bartender reappears with their drinks. She notices Kristen is having a lime and soda—has she not been drinking the whole holiday? Mel has been paying no attention to that, though she does remember Kristen declining wine last night, now that she thinks about it.

Kristen is still looking at her, waiting for an answer. Was she lonely as an only child? Sometimes, she supposes. “I think we all get lonely sometimes,” she hedges. Because she knows, from what Finn has told her, that even if you have siblings you can’t always talk to them about everything. “And there are much worse things than being an only child,” she says firmly. “I had a brilliant childhood.”

Should she be saying this? Kristen needs to talk to Mark about this, doesn’t she—not Mel.

Kristen nods, swallowing. “You’re right. God, you’re right. I think I’m just…” She gestures vaguely in the air. “My life is just too insular. I know it is. I’ve been out of work for years now and it’s like I’ve forgotten how to function. I used to love what I did.” What did she do, Mel wonders. Now doesn’t really seem like the time to ask.

“I love Mark,” Kristen continues. “I don’t regret anything about him or our family. But that doesn’t mean it’s not hard, sometimes. He grew up in a household where his mum did everything and, though he doesn’t mean to, he’s inherited those expectations.”

Mel thinks of what Susan said in the supermarket. No matter how hard we try, I don’t think any parent can ever fully bring a child up without scathing them, just a little.

“Scathing” is a bit of a harsh word, but Mel gets the sentiment—after all, isn’t everyone a product of the choices their parents make, like it or not?

“Maybe you should talk to him,” Mel hedges.