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‘That must be hard,’ I say.

She nods, and her gaze travels slowly back up to meet mine. It’s as if she is also tentatively approaching that line.

‘It was a deal-breaker in the end,’ she says, her professional manner slipping for just a moment, revealing the younger woman beneath, with her own hopes and dreams and worries.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, truly feeling for her. ‘Paddy and I both wanted a family. It just . . . never happened.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she replies back. And for a moment we are just two women, no matter the age difference, sharing a common loss.

‘. . . But that doesn’t mean to say you’re not doing a great job,’ she adds, bringing things back to the here and now, reverting to her kind and professional manner. She nods in the direction of the driveway, where she would have passed a For Sale sign on her way in. ‘I see that you’re up for sale?’ she says.

I nod, taking a deep breath. The evening air has a touch of early winter about it.

‘Just gone on the market. Time for me to move on,’ I say. ‘This place has been my happy home. But now – well, with just me and Tegan . . .’

‘I understand,’ she says. ‘And we’re not asking you to put your life on hold. Like I say, we’re looking to find Willow a forever home, through adoption, with new parents.’

‘It’s a lot here for one person,’ I say with a rueful smile, thinking of the toilet that doesn’t flush properly, the couple of radiators that work and the sticking window that if I open, I can’t get shut again. And then, of course, there’s the leak in the roof.

A swishing, rustling sound overhead makes both of us look up, and a flock of starlings swoops across the yard like a military fly-by. We watch them move on and away down the valley in the misty, chilly breeze, changing shape and direction in a fluid mass against the darkening sky.

‘There’s nothing like teamwork to make things easier,’ I say with a half-smile.

Lara is still gazing after the flock with wonder in her expression. She turns back to me.

‘Exactly, teamwork!’ she agrees. ‘Look, you’re not on your own, and neither is Willow. I’ll come by again soon and see how things are. And do ring me if you have any concerns. You’ve got my number in your phone.’

‘I’ll never be off the phone!’ I say wryly, with a hint of ‘not joking’ in there. Then I frown and add, rather more seriously, ‘Just have to remember where I’ve put it,’ and we both laugh.

‘Honestly, you’re doing great,’ she says, opening the car door. ‘Willow’s safe and well, and that’s what matters. I’ll be back with my colleague next week to do the actual kinship carer assessment. But really, be kind to yourself – you’re doing fine. Try and enjoy him being here. Don’t worry so much.’

I stand back and wave as she gets in the car, wishing she wasn’t going. The wind picks up; autumn leaves are blowing down from the fruit trees in the little orchard where the ducks and Gloria have their home, leaving the branches bare. They swirl in the air, flying up and around the yard as Lara turns the car. I watch her drive away down the long drive before I turn back towards the farmhouse, outlined against the deep-toned sky and the lush pine forest beyond it. I never tire of seeing the beautiful trees silhouetted against the skyline, lit up by the moonlight on a clear night.

I need to get back inside to Willow and Tegan, but I can’t resist crossing the yard to gaze at the Christmas tree forest for another moment or two. I lean against the big wooden five-bar gate with a sigh, drinking in the sight and scent of the trees as if looking for answers to my questions. I’m surprised the wood isn’t worn here, where I’ve rested my elbows countless times over the years. These trees have been my sanctuary ever since Paddy passed. I’ve found such comfort in them, and I feel so close to him when I stand here, remembering the hours of back-breaking work we put in to plant each and every one of them. Then we watched them grow – a foot a year, year on year. There is something I find so comforting in that and in their branches, like arms, reaching out and around me as I walk through them.

I haven’t ventured into the forest for a good while now. Since late summer the weeds and brambles have been taking over a bit, and it’s getting harder to walk through the trees. And now that there’s a big tree down across the path, there’s just so much to do. Still, these trees have always been there when I’ve needed them, and I’m looking to them now hoping they’ll tell me what I need to do next. But they’re not giving anything away.

The day I decided to sell this place, I just had a sense that my time here on my own was over. I don’t know if it was the light shining through the branches that day, or what – the smell of damp autumnal soil, or the dew hanging on the branches of the firs like diamond-studded bracelets – but I knew it was time for things to change. For me to move on.

Right now, though, I have no idea what I’m doing, and I can’t help but feel let down by the trees that have been my faithful guides and protectors. Maybe they’re just confirming it to me: this is the sign that it’s time to leave. I can no longer feel what I should be doing for the best.

Chapter 6

Sunday passes quietly. Willow spends all his time with Tegan. He even follows her to the yard and lets me introduce him to the ducks and Gloria. It’s a small step, but he follows my instructions to help feed and clean them out. He doesn’t say much, unless it’s to Tegan, but at least he’s not sitting on the sofa. We walk Tegan down the drive and then I take him to the local pub, the Giddy Goose, for Sunday dinner, thinking it might be a nice treat. I tell him it’s to say thank you for his work in the yard, but he just pushes the food around and quietly slides pieces off his plate to Tegan, waiting at his feet.

By Monday he’s barely eaten at all, and I’m really worried. I ring Lara and leave a message to say I need help. I pick up a message from her later that says she’ll drop in as soon as she can. There’s a message from the estate agent, too, confirming a viewing, which I immediately forget to write on the calendar because I’m distracted by a voicemail from Gareth, who is laughing, saying I probably can’t find my phone, and asking whether Willow is still with me. He says he hopes all is going well and apologizes if he overstepped the mark; he ‘just wanted to be honest’ and was only trying to help. I finish listening to the message and sigh, wondering for the first time if he might have been right.

I open the laptop on the kitchen table and google ‘child-friendly meals’. Not that I’m any sort of cook. Paddy was always the chef in our house, and since he’s gone I mostly live on toast and ready meals.

By Tuesday, I’m counting the hours until Lara arrives. She’s said she’ll bring cakes. That sounds promising, I think. Who doesn’t like cakes?

Willow is settled on the settee with Tegan, stroking her, so I head outside to brush up the leaves from the yard. It’s not something I’d usually do, but it will pass the time and stop the yard from getting slippery. I could start clearing out the barn again, but that suddenly seems like a huge task, and I feel exhausted just thinking about it.

Pausing in my work after a while, I glance back through the open stable door into the kitchen. The television is on, but Willow’s not really watching it. He’s just in his own world, with Tegan by his side, his hand on her head; looking at them, my heart twists. But I know Lara will be able to talk to him. She has a way with him.

Parp!

A loud horn makes me jump, and I swing round at the sound of approaching vehicles. Tegan comes running out from the kitchen with a volley of barks. A large Audi 4×4 is careering up the drive – and Lara’s little Fiat Panda has swerved off the track into a ditch.