‘That’s one,’ Claire said.

Callum put his book on the bedside table. ‘One what?’

‘Maggie said she’ll come to the reunion.’ She’d sounded exactly the same – wild, crazy, passionate, kind. ‘She’s bringing her daughter too.’

‘Great,’ Callum replied. ‘Let’s hope she doesn’t take after her mother.’

‘Don’t be mean, Cal.’ She prodded his arm, scrolling through her phone’s address book, angling the screen slightly away, searching for a particular name. But when she couldn’t find it, she closed the list down. Anyway, she didn’t want to talk to him yet, not until she’d spoken to Jason. She knew they’d been in touch once or twice over the years and she felt it would probably be wise to get the low-down first, though she doubted he was the type to broadcast his life on social media.

‘You’re not making more calls now, are you? It’s late.’ Callum rolled onto his side and pressed his face against Claire’s stomach. ‘Why don’t you turn that thing off and get yourself out of this?’ He tugged at the oversized T-shirt she was wearing.

‘I need to call Jason,’ she said, smoothing down her nightdress.

They usually spoke weekly, and if Claire ever went up to London they’d always meet for lunch to make it seem as if they didn’t actually live several hundred miles apart. Their relationship was strong, unbreakable, forged silently over the years by the sense of culpability they shared. But inviting Jason back to Trevellin was another matter entirely. He never came to the farm. Time may have passed, but she wasn’t sure it was long enough to heal the deep hurt he felt. It could do more damage than good, leaving her stuck in the middle.

Greta answered her call and the conversation flowed as easily as ever.

‘Oh Claire, how lovely to hear from you. No, that’s fine… we’re still up. Sleep is hard now anyway… Yes, I’m huge! Work’s fine, really busy. You? Yes, I’m looking forward to being off for a while though. Sure, hang on, I’ll fetch him.’

There was a muffled sound as Greta called for Jason. A second later her brother’s voice came on the line. ‘Hey, sis.’

‘Hi,’ Claire said, sliding Callum’s hand off her thigh. ‘How are things?’

‘Good. Greta’s massive. You?’

Claire laughed fondly. ‘Everyone’s really well. I tried to call you earlier, but it went to voicemail.’

‘Everything OK?’

‘Kind of, yes. Mum’s thinking of selling the farm, Jase. Seriously thinking about it. It’s all her idea.’ Claire knew that he would be thinking the same as her, as their father – the same as everyone except their mother it seemed.

‘Christ, what’s brought this on?’

Claire explained about how coping with the farm as well as Patrick was getting increasingly hard for their mother. She heard Jason swallowing heavily at the mention of their father. Shame it’s not your pride you’re swallowing, she thought so loudly she worried he’d hear. ‘Anyway, how’s work? Much on?’

‘Zilch,’ Jason replied, no doubt grateful for the reprieve, even if it was about his failed career. ‘If it wasn’t for Greta, we’d be living on the streets.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Pity isn’t what I need.’

‘Then maybe you need a holiday,’ Claire said, trying to sound bright. She heard Callum groaning beside her, fully aware that he was on a hiding to nothing. He picked up his book again.

‘Greta can’t fly anywhere now. Doctor’s orders. She’s on maternity leave soon.’

‘Then I have the perfect solution.’ She waited, but Jason was silent. ‘I’m organising a reunion. It’s for Dad. I thought it would be good for him if we – you know, all the old group – got together at Trevellin for a few days. We could do all the things we used to as kids. The beach, the walks, the games, tell stories. I’ve done a bit of research and apparently it could really help his long-term memory.’

‘You honestly think it’s that simple?’

Claire sighed. ‘I’m trying to make this all right, Jason. To do something good for Dad… for you too. Why are you always so against stuff like this?’

‘I’m sorry, Claire. I didn’t mean—’

‘It’s OK,’ she added quickly. A disagreement could lead to him refusing and she didn’t want that. But for the first time she was wondering who, exactly, the reunion was for. She pushed the answer from her mind.

Callum got out of bed and stretched into his robe. He walked into the bathroom, shaking his head, while Claire lay back on the pillows, closing her eyes. ‘So, will you and Greta come to Trevellin?’

‘No,’ was his instant reply.

Claire’s heart sank. Out of all of them, it was Jason she wanted there the most.

‘I won’t stay in his house. You know that.’

‘But Jason, he’s ill. You have to let this go.’

A pause. ‘It’s not that easy, Claire, and you know it.’

But Claire didn’t know it. She simply couldn’t understand how one misjudged incident had turned into years of bitter feelings.

‘Then stay with us. We have room here. The others can stay at the farm.’ It felt unfair pressing him, but she was determined to do this for Patrick.

‘I’ll speak to Greta,’ was Jason’s final response.

Claire knew not to push further, so she took a deep breath. Callum was still in the bathroom. ‘By the way, I don’t suppose you have Nick’s number, do you?’ There. She’d said his name.

‘Yeah,’ Jason replied. ‘I’ll text it to you.’

And the conversation was over.