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Fox straightened on the stupid little chair.

‘Or it can just be getting used to working to timelines and deadlines, like we all have to in our lives,’ she continued.

He glanced again at George’s work in front of him and suddenly felt the urge to give him a hug. He was so little, he didn’t really even understand the concept of time yet. He just lived in the moment. How was he supposed to know how quickly to finish his matchstick project?

‘What should we do?’ Fox asked.

‘Better to identify any learning issues as young as possible, so that the school can make any necessary allowances and teach George in the best way for him.’

Fox nodded.

‘Like I said, it might be nothing and it might settle down in the next weeks or months. But let’s keep an eye on him. Perhaps we can meet again next month to discuss?’

‘Of course. You just let me know when.’

‘And please don’t worry. George is a happy, bright little boy. And I love having him in my class.’ She smiled kindly and Fox wished he could smile back. The words ‘please don’t worry’ had just kickstarted his anxiety. He sighed and shook hands, heading out past the waiting line of parents towards the school front door.

ADHD? George? He wracked his brains. Sure, he tore around the house at a hundred miles an hour, but he was also happy to chill in front of a film, with his feet on his dad’s lap. He loved to chase the dog, but he just had a lot of energy. He was a kid. He was supposed to be active. Fox shook his head. Had he missed something? Was he letting George down? He turned the corner towards reception.

He saw that Reggie’s teacher had changed the display in the corridor outside his classroom and paused to look. A hand-drawn banner hung at the top, with the heading What we do after school.

He glanced across the pictures to find Reggie’s. This should be good. He saw pictures of swimming clubs, and gymnastics. There was someone riding a horse, another one walking a yellow dog. He thought that one might be Reggie, but it wasn’t. The one next to it was. His heart sank.

In the corner of the page, very small, it showed a man playing video games, underneath which said in scratchy print, Dad works. And right in the middle of the sheet, it showed a woman with red hair laughing, with a boy on either side of her wearing big smiles. Underneath that, Reggie had written, We play.

If a picture says a thousand words, then fuck. Fox exhaled sharply and wondered how he’d been getting it quite so wrong. Meg was right: he really needed to put the boys first.

Chapter Seventeen

Robyn

Robyn laid out her foraged leaves and flowers by type on the kitchen table: long trailing ivy, variegated holly, a few pine cones, scarlet clusters of rowan berries and sprays of claret rosehips. She added a few sprigs of eucalyptus that she had bought and surveyed the combination. A long-legged, hair-thin spider crawled across the table and she caught it gently in her hands and put it out of the window.

It had kept her busy all week, wandering the wooded footpaths and clambering over wonky stiles with Willow, snipping samples, picking flowers while the boys were at school, and now she had enough to work with. She wanted to make a seasonal wreath for the front door of Honeybridge House. Anything to keep her hands busy and her mind off Fox.

Though it had been a year or so since she’d learned how to make wreaths for a craft market in South Africa, she was sure she could remember how to do it.

It was completely absorbing and she worked quietly, listening to the radio, one ear on the monitor for Willow sleeping in the pool house. She cut stems to the correct length and held them to check their position before tucking each gently into the floral foam. Soon she had her base layer done. Now to build the shape.

As she’d hoped, the wreath had been a good distraction and had given her a focus this week. Not that she’d really seen Fox. He seemed to have his own things to tend to and they’d only crossed paths first thing in the morning, or briefly as she left them for dinner in the evening. She heard him sometimes during the day, coming in and out of the office, and she’d waited to see which way his footsteps fell. But they never came to the kitchen. She was starting to wonder if he’d actually installed a coffee machine in the office. Probably for the best if the weekend was anything to go by. She obviously couldn’t be trusted to be in the same room as Fox.

It seemed that her resolution to keep busy had come at the right time. A poster appeared at the boys’ school on Monday asking for volunteers to run a forest school for the children. She’d put her name at the top of the list, got the gig and would be running a twice weekly group in the lunch hour to teach the children about nature in the woodland at the edge of the school field.

Robyn inserted the last few bursts of rowan berries into the wreath. It was beautiful, the reds and greens vibrant and autumnal. But she wanted it to be beautiful at night as well as during the day. Very carefully, she wound the thin strip of white LED-powered fairy lights through the arrangement. She tucked the battery pack underneath the foliage to hide it from sight. And once she flicked the switch on the battery pack and the LED fairy lights twinkled brightly, the whole effect was magical.

She clapped her hands in delight, just as the kitchen door swung open and Fox walked in.

‘Wow,’ he acknowledged with a nod. ‘That looks great.’

‘Thanks,’ Robyn said, clearing the clippings from the table, brushing them into the bin, aware of his proximity. ‘It’s for your front door.’

‘Honestly,’ he assured her. ‘You’ve got a real talent. You should see if the local florist is interested in stocking them.’

Fox lingered behind her. She could feel him there, even if she couldn’t see him.

‘Listen, maybe I should spend a bit more time with the boys after school,’ he said, and she stiffened.

‘Are they not happy with me?’ Robyn asked and he laughed quietly.