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‘Oh . . .' Choking back a sob, I reach out and rub her back. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘I feel as if I've lost her.' Mum swivels round to face me. ‘The person I knew, the funny, capable, sometimes difficult mother I loved . . .' Her face crumples, reminding me of Poppy,'She's gone.'

‘She hasn't. There are times when she comes back,' I insist. In the background, I hear a single ‘Cuckoo'. It's twelve o'clock and even the cuckoo clock is giving
up. ‘She can still have a giggle. She can still be very stubborn.'

‘I'm sorry but you really have to snap out of this denial and accept the situation for what it is.' Mum's voice softens. ‘I know it's hard, but we have to work together to find a solution that works for Gran and the rest of the family.'

‘Put her in a home, you mean?'

‘Not necessarily,' she says. ‘Let's talk about this another time.'

‘Yes, I'd better go. Thank you.' I'm not looking forward to that conversation. It will only lead to an impasse because, although life is getting harder for both of us, it isn't at the stage where I'd be prepared to break my promise to my grandmother.

In fact, her condition appears to stabilise over the next three weeks, and I find myself able to concentrate on work, with James doing the odd shift after school and Mrs Dyer popping in now and again to check that Gran is coping. It's a relief – with the distraction of busy clinics, tricky deliveries and some happy postnatal checks, I find I have to push thoughts of Lewis to the back of my mind for a significant part of every day, even if those thoughts return with a vengeance during the rest of my waking hours.

Eventually, I decide to stop torturing myself and look forward not back. Lewis maintains a presence in my life that is unhealthy, like a jam sandwich or a great big chocolate éclair. I can make a start by deleting his number and his texts, all of them, including the locked messages that have been tormenting me for the past
weeks, their presence on my mobile tempting me to relive the good times, the best days of my life, but although it's simple enough to erase the history from my SIM with a touch of a button, it's harder, maybe impossible, to erase all traces of him from my heart. I take a deep breath and, fighting the palpitations of doubt in my chest, press delete.

Immediately, my heart breaks all over again and I can't get enough oxygen into my lungs, but Frosty's here to comfort me in her own way, bringing me one of my shoes. She sits at my feet and pushes it onto my lap. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't want to get up in the mornings, especially when I dream during the night that I have a baby of my own; except, when I pick it up, it weighs nothing, and when I unwrap the blanket from its face, there's nobody there, no one to love.

Emily and I meet to walk the dogs on another sunny October afternoon in what is turning out to be an Indian summer.

‘Where's Sherbet?' I ask, noticing that he doesn't come scampering out of the house to greet us as he normally does.

‘He's on his way,' she says. ‘Look, here he is.'

I turn to see Murray driving the tractor into the yard with Sherbet on his knee in the cab.

‘What the . . .?' I say. ‘I thought he wasn't going to have anything to do with the dog.'

‘That's what he said,' Emily chuckles. ‘The trouble is that Sherbet has a way of turning the emotional screw, sitting in his basket looking all dejected, and Murray's decided he can't bear to leave him alone while Poppy's
at school and I'm out and about. It's “take your dog to work day” every day down on the farm, you know.'

‘Daddy, give me my pet back,' Poppy calls. ‘We're going for a walk with Frosty.'

‘All right. Give us a chance.' Murray climbs out of the cab with the dog tucked awkwardly under one arm. He kisses Sherbet on the top of his head and lets him down, when he comes trotting up to Poppy and Frosty, squeaking with excitement.

‘Come on, sausage,' Poppy says.

I watch Sherbet trying to play with Frosty. He wants her to bow and bark at him, but she thinks it's more fun to run back and forth jumping over him with her long legs. I believe she's missing Mick almost as much as I miss Lewis. I expect Miley's happy now, too, having her master back almost to herself, unless he's moved on and found someone new.

Emily and I walk on, keeping clear of the sheep that are nibbling at the short grass on the hill, while Poppy is distracted collecting the conkers from amongst the fallen leaves of the horse-chestnut tree. Daisy is sitting up in the pushchair, cooing and gurgling as if she's part of our conversation.

Emily stops at the top of the slope and looks back towards the farmhouse.

‘Zara, I have a confession to make. Two, actually.'

‘Oh? That sounds ominous. Go on. What are they?'

‘Lewis is coming back!' Poppy calls, holding the front of her dress up as a container for conkers, which spill out as she trots towards us. ‘He'll be here for the Tar Barrels.'

Lewis? The blood seems to drain from my body, sending me into shock.

Emily groans. ‘I'm sorry, sis. I should have known Big Ears was listening.'

‘I'm not Big Ears, Mummy.'

‘Go and fetch Sherbet,' Emily says. ‘Look, he's got himself stuck in the hedge. All I can see is his tail sticking out from the bushes. Hurry.'

Poppy runs off to extricate her pet and Emily turns back to me.

‘Why?' I say. ‘Did you and Murray invite him back? Why on earth would you do that? Didn't you think for one moment how I'd feel about it?'

‘Listen, it's complicated and, believe me, Murray and I didn't do it without a lot of thought.'

‘You know, there isn't a day that goes by without me thinking of him. I'm not sure I can bear the idea of seeing him again, either here at the farm, or running into him in Talyton. It's too painful.'

‘I'm so sorry, Zara.'

‘Why?' I repeat.

‘The sickness I had a couple of weeks ago, well . . .,' Emily stares at me. ‘Do I have to spell it out?'

I brace myself. ‘You're pregnant!'

‘It was an accident.'

‘Don't you ever listen? What did I say to you about contraception after Daisy was born?'

‘I know, but it isn't the end of the world. Murray's over the moon. He's always wanted a big family.'

‘There was a time recently when you said you wished Poppy—'

‘Stop! That's enough. I didn't mean it – I was having a bad day. I'm sorry. I couldn't bring myself to tell you before, but I can't keep it secret for long, I'm already starting to show.'

‘It doesn't matter. I've steeled myself against other people's good news so many times . . . Emily, I'm really pleased for you, and I'm made up because I'm going to be an auntie three times over. I hope Poppy will be all right about it this time.'

‘She's so besotted with Sherbet, she probably won't notice,' Emily says with a fond smile. She grows serious again. ‘I'm sorry about bringing the subject of Lewis up. I didn't realise it was going to hit you quite so hard.'

‘It isn't me I'm worried about. It's Lewis. I hurt him badly.' I know it was for the best, but I'll never forget the hurt in his eyes when I rejected him.

‘It isn't for me to say whether you did the right thing, or not, but there are couples who, for various reasons, don't have kids. When Murray spoke to Lewis on the phone the other day, he was still really cut up about it, but he wanted to come back.'

‘I hope he isn't thinking of this as an opportunity to rekindle our relationship.'

‘I think you made it pretty clear when he left that there was no chance of that happening. No, I reckon he's being pragmatic – he needs the money and he and Murray have a bit of a laugh working together.' She leans down and pops Daisy's soother back into her mouth before giving me a hug. ‘I could say we've changed our minds and find someone else.'

‘Don't. I know he's the best shepherd for the job.' It's a double whammy: Lewis and the baby. I try to stay strong but inside I'm devastated all over again. Unlike with my ex-husband, I don't think I'll ever get oyer my ex-boyfriend.

Poppy comes running back with Frosty and Sherbet.

‘Where are the conkers?' I ask, glad to have the opportunity to change the subject.

‘Over there. I'm going to let Daisy carry them.'

‘We can put them in the pocket at the back of the pushchair, as long as you remember to take them out when we get back to the house,' Emily says. ‘Come on, Pops. Zara can give us a hand.'

‘I hope you don't mind, but when Lewis does come back, I can't see myself spending much time at the farm.'

‘That's okay. I understand why you don't want to see him. I won't take it personally,' she says. ‘Although I'm not sure you'll be able to avoid him in such a small town.'

The night of the Tar Barrels, an annual event in Talyton St George, draws closer, and the signs go up around town: Flaming Tar Barrels; enter at your own risk. There is an air of excitement and anticipation. Spare rooms are tidied up for guests, the bonfire is being built on the Green, the equipment for the funfair is arriving in convoy, and there are extra deliveries of beer to the local pubs.

For some of us, life goes on as normal, and I have plenty of work the day before the event, including
a few appointments at the surgery, one of which is a routine antenatal check at twenty-five weeks for Katie, Paul's girlfriend. I'm delighted for all the wrong reasons when he turns up with her. I invite them into the nurse's room and check through the notes. She's had her twenty-week scan and all is well.

‘Good morning,' Paul says, as if I'm his best mate. ‘How are you doing?'

I turn away and focus on Katie and their baby. I really don't care about Paul any more. I run through the process, asking questions, checking Katie's blood pressure and the baby's heart.

‘Have you brought a urine sample?' I ask.

‘I forgot. I'm sorry.'

‘Oh dear, how many times did I remind you?' Paul sighs.'You are so ditsy, I despair.'

‘Never mind,' I say, handing her a pot. ‘You can provide one now.'

I wait until Katie leaves for the toilet before I turn on Paul, who's looking at me with the usual annoying smirk on his lips.

‘You didn't answer my question, Zara,' he says quietly. ‘How are you doing? Really? You know you can be straight with me.'

‘It's none of your business,' I snap.

‘You're a bit touchy today. I heard you and Lewis had split up.'

‘Didn't you hear what I just said? What I do, who I'm with, how I'm feeling – they have absolutely nothing to do with you, you cold bastard, I know what you
tried to do, planting ideas about me in Lewis's head, but I'm so sorry to disappoint you – your sneaky lies had no influence on our break-up.'

‘My god, you're in a right strop today,' Paul says without wavering. ‘It must be your hormones.'

‘Listen to me – I want nothing more to do with you. I'm transferring Katie's care to another member of my team.'

‘You can't do that.'

‘Oh, I can.'

‘But what will I tell Katie when I've been going on about how you're the best?' Paul blusters.

‘I'm sure you can make something up – you're pretty good at that. Now, go and sit in the waiting room while I test this urine sample. Go on. Piss off . . . and while you're at it, go somewhere else to buy your chocolates and magazines.' As soon as Katie walks back into the room, I transform from furious ex-wife to reassuring professional midwife.

‘I'll wait outside,' Paul says quietly.

‘Are you. sure?'Katie says.

‘I'm feeling a bit faint,' he goes on, excusing himself.

Pleased that I've managed to have it out with Paul at last, I return from work to find my father boarding up the windows. The butcher's and greengrocer's are already obscured by sheets of plywood.

‘At least Frosty won't worry about the fireworks,' I say, giving Dad a hug. ‘Gran can stay and dog-sit tomorrow night. I'll pop in now and again to make sure she's all right.'

‘She can't stay here much longer,' Dad says.

‘I know. I'll talk to her.'

‘When?'

‘Soon,' I say stubbornly. ‘Thanks for doing this.'

‘I've done it every year since your granddad died and your gran still hates me,' He grins. ‘She won't change now. Are you going to watch the barrels tomorrow night, or have you got better things to do?'

‘Emily's bringing the girls here so Poppy can watch from the window upstairs. Murray wants them to stay safe.' I sound nonchalant, but I love the tar barrels, the bonfire being lit on the Green, the smell of smoke, the fireworks, and the surging crowds that carry you back and forth through Talyton's streets like a cork in the sea.

Gran sits at the kitchen table while I prepare jacket potatoes, sausages and chocolate cake, decorated with sweets to make it look like a bonfire, before the family turn up. My grandmother talks about Tar Barrel nights gone by, repeating the same stories over and over again, but I don't mind. I'm happy to see her so animated and looking forward to the evening. I take her out with Emily, Poppy and Daisy to see the first barrel being lit and watch the children carrying it past the shop, but by ten thirty, she, takes herself off to bed, leaving me and Emily to catch up.

‘I saw Tessa the other day,' Emily says. ‘We met up for coffee at the garden centre.'

‘How is she?' I ask my sister, who's sitting up with a sleepy Poppy in her arms, and Daisy snoozing in her travel cot in the flat.

‘She seems a bit stressed out. It's hard enough looking after a new baby, let alone one who has a heart defect.'

‘Oliver's okay, though?' I saw Tessa when she brought the baby to the doctor's recently to see Ben about various minor ailments, sniffles and rashes. According to her, Oliver is doing well, although he might still need surgery to close the hole in his heart.