Marcus lay on his bed. He was stuffed from all that food. It was good to see Uncle Jason, but he’d wanted to get back to his room to see if that girl was still online. He’d made his excuses at the table, but could tell his mum wasn’t impressed.

He opened Messenger.

—when u arriving? he typed. He replied to three other conversations he was having with mates from school, bragging about the girl called Rain who was coming to stay, sending them a picture of her to prove he wasn’t lying about how hot she was.

—she’ll be staying right next door to me, he typed as fast as he could. He reckoned he was suddenly going to be very popular.

—early AF was Rain’s reply. —what’s to do near you? sounds grim.

She was right about that, Marcus thought, suddenly feeling different about the village he’d grown up in and always loved. But he wasn’t about to confess that they lived in the middle of nowhere in case she changed her mind about coming.

—cool stuff, he typed, hoping that would convince her. They could go to Newquay, he supposed. And he could teach her to surf. He’d like to see her in a bikini. —decent clubs, great beaches.

More messages came in as his mates learnt of Rain’s imminent arrival. There was a definite shortage of pretty girls in their year. Not only was Rain stunningly gorgeous, as he’d shown them all, but, even though they weren’t Facebook friends yet and he couldn’t see her birthday, she’d said she was his age. At least they’d all be able to get into the clubs. Marcus had looked at a couple of her pictures, but her privacy settings were strict, and he’d tried not to stalk her too much. He didn’t want to feel creepy.

Suddenly, Rain was offline.

Marcus threw his phone down beside him. Only eight hours until he met her, he thought, sticking in his earphones, falling asleep in his clothes.

---

Greta had gone to bed. She’d thanked her hosts profusely, confessing to hardly being able to keep her eyes open much after nine o’clock these days, so making it to eleven was an achievement.

‘Scary business, this having babies lark,’ Callum said with a knowing laugh. He’d got out the whisky, which Claire didn’t think was a terribly good idea seeing as Maggie and Rain were arriving in time for an early breakfast. Maggie had decided to leave at an ungodly hour to avoid the traffic.

‘I think it would be scarier not having them.’ Jason took the tumbler, swirling the liquid in the glass, thinking how grateful he was that he would soon be a dad.

Claire declined the whisky, sticking to tea. It was a mild night and the French doors were open. Insects darted about in the border between light and dark, while Claire breathed in the sea breeze. The evening had been a success despite the phone message. Several glasses of wine, a good meal and her thankfully waning headache had all served to make her conclude that the call was most likely a cruel prank.

‘We didn’t get to see much of Marcus tonight,’ Jason said.

‘Perfectly normal,’ Claire replied. ‘Once he hit thirteen, it was as if anyone outside his circle of friends didn’t exist.’ She laughed. ‘And he’s hard-wired into his phone.’

Callum muttered something about his son being a recluse as he settled down in the armchair with his drink. Claire knew he’d had a hard week. ‘Personally, I don’t see the appeal of all that social media stuff,’ he went on, laying back his head. ‘Give me a newspaper or a dog to walk and I’m happy.’

‘You’re just easy to please,’ Claire said. ‘Or getting old.’ She patted his leg. Things had become so routine between them over the years that she only realised how much she loved all that when reminded of the simple things. She hoped he felt the same – contented, grateful, happy.

‘Just so you know, I won’t be around much next week. I have my clinics and operating schedule as normal.’

‘I understand.’ But Claire couldn’t help the pang of regret wondering if Callum somehow felt sidelined. He’d not been part of their group when they were younger. ‘When Maggie and Rain arrive in the morning, we’ll have a lazy catch-up breakfast, then see what they feel like doing.’

‘What kind of a name is Rain?’ Callum said.

‘A typical Maggie name,’ Jason replied, smiling fondly.

‘I was at medical school. I don’t really know her.’

Claire thought how strange and impossible it would have seemed to her thirteen-year-old self to be dating a twenty-three-year-old man. Only when they met again in her late teens did the ten-year age difference suddenly seem less unacceptable. And Callum kept himself fit, running several times a week and always eating healthily. Plus, she couldn’t have wished for a better father. He was as happy in the operating theatre as he was rolling about on the floor with his daughter or setting up her doll’s house. They were content. The four of them. A family.

Why then, Claire wondered, did her stomach twist in knots when Jason asked about Nick’s arrival?

‘Is he bringing his wife?’ Callum asked.

‘I’m not actually sure.’ She forced herself to sound casual, making a mental note to iron the sundress she’d bought earlier in the week. It had been on display in the boutique window on Monday morning and by lunchtime it was in a bag under her desk.

It was the truth – she didn’t know if Nick was coming alone or with his family. Like the first, her second conversation with him had been curtailed. While he’d quickly agreed to the reunion, they hadn’t had the time to discuss much about his life. All she knew was that he’d sounded a little tired, a little sad, and very grateful for the chance to take a break.

‘I’m off to bed now. I need to get up early for Maggie.’ She kissed her brother on the cheek and gave Callum a quick wave, indicating she’d say good night properly when he came up.

In the bathroom she removed her make-up, smoothing out the fine lines, wondering if Nick would think she’d aged much since he’d last seen her. She woke later when Callum finally got into bed beside her, but pretended to be asleep. She felt his warm breath on her neck as he kissed her, sensed the roughness of his stubble and smelt the sour tang of whisky mixed with toothpaste as he draped a hopeful arm across her waist.

Quietly, before sleep took over again, she opened the safekeeping box in her mind and locked up thoughts about the message, stashing them away along with everything else she kept secret in there.