Tamsin’s father wasn’t a man of many words at the best of times, but he was being especially quiet today. He usually loved being surrounded by his daughters and son-in-law, Tamsin knew, but today he seemed a little ill at ease. No wonder, Tamsin thought, as she looked over at Diane, who sat across from her.

“William Foxley, birdwatcher first, wood worker second, father third,” Eve said. “That’s what I’m going to put on your gravestone.”

Tamsin witnessed how Diane’s eyes widened. She clearly wasn’t used to Eve’s indelicate ways yet. For most, it was an acquired taste—one James had acquired a long time ago, because he burst out into laughter.

“You know Dad will outlive us all,” Tamsin said. “There’s no point waiting for our inheritance because we’ll never actually get our hands on it.” Tamsin wondered if she had sufficiently warned Diane about how the Foxleys could have a go at each other when united. Their mother had been the worst of all, turning affectionate teasing into a sport, and these days, they engaged in this sort of banter not only because it was their way, but also to keep her memory alive.

“It’ll all go to the Derbyshire Birdwatching Society, no doubt,” Eve said. “They need it more than us, I guess.”

“Diane,” their father said. “I hope you’ll do a better job with Tazzie than James has done with Eve.” He sighed. “Do I look like a man who deserves this kind of blatant disrespect from his own offspring?”

“You most certainly do not, William,” Diane said. “But alas, I can’t make you any promises, except that I’ll do my best to teach your girl some respect.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t seem to have worked so far.”

“As the older generation, it’s our duty, you know,” Tamsin’s father said. “I suppose I’ve failed miserably, although I’ve made a habit of blaming their mother. As she’s no longer around to defend herself, it’s rather easy.”

Actually, Tamsin thought, her mum and dad matched each other in the dark humour department. That was one of the best memories she had of the two of them together when she was a child: her mum and dad howling with laughter at something Tamsin was too young to understand.

“So,” her father took a sip of his wine as he regarded Diane. Tamsin thought he looked more at ease—probably because he had assessed that Diane could take a joke. Here we go, she thought, because Tamsin knew this was only the beginning. “If a man were to want his books cooked, you’d be the person he’d call?” he asked with a deadpan expression on his face. It was all in the delivery with her dad.

“Dad, come on,” Tamsin protested.

“I do have my inheritance to the Derbyshire Birdwatching Society to consider, Tazzie,” her dad said. “I don’t want to leave its esteemed members hanging.”

Tamsin shook her head. She found Diane’s gaze and mouthed ‘Sorry’. Diane grinned at her.

“I can’t promise to cook your books, William,” she said. “But next time, come around to my house, and I’ll cook you a nice roast.”

“Hm, very well,” her dad said. Tamsin could tell the next impoliteness was already brewing in his mind. If he was on a roll, like Eve, the man was relentless. “The other day I read in the paper that somewhere in California a cougar killed a mountain biker. One of your kind that was, I gather. Please know that Tamsin has family members who’d like to keep her around a while and refrain from tearing her insides out with your fangs.” He still had the same deadpan expression on his face.

“Dad,” Eve said between hiccups of laughter. “You’re so bad.” She was sitting next to Diane and put a hand on her shoulder. “Feel free to tell him to keep his gob shut if he goes too far. Not that I can promise it will work.”

“Don’t worry too much, though,” James said. “When I first met Eve, I thought she was the sweetest, most delightful girl. Until I got to know her better and was introduced to her family. You’ll get used to it.” He held out his glass across the table for Diane to clink hers against.

“There’s no way you ever thought of Eve as sweet,” Tamsin said.

“I hope not,” Eve said. “Our entire marriage would be based on a lie. I don’t want to be married to someone who considers me sweet.”

“All right, all right,” James said. “I clearly misspoke. I thought you were positively draconian, darling. A formidable beast of a woman. It was love at first sight.”

Tamsin had often wondered how they got any eating done when they dined together as a family, between the peals of laughter and the inevitable desire to outdo each other, especially between her and Eve. She glanced at the empty chair at the head of the table, where her mother would have sat. She wished she could have introduced Diane to her mum, but this was the family she had left, and Diane was part of that now—if anything, the relentless teasing of her proved that.

“Do you know that all this time Tazzie said she was a lesbian I just had to take her word for it,” their father said. “Because she never introduced me to anyone. I had to wait until she was almost forty to finally see it for myself.” This time, Tamsin’s dad held up his glass. “You seem very sweet and delightful, Diane,” he said, because the man was incapable of not cracking a joke, even when he was trying to show genuine emotion—or perhaps even more so then.

But this was what Tamsin knew and a warm glow descended on her chest. They all held up their glasses and, as she drank her wine, Tamsin looked into Diane’s eyes. They were dark and sparkling and from the way she looked back at her, Tamsin knew she’d get along just fine with the other Foxleys.

Tamsin rubbed her palms against her trousers. Then she rang the bell. As though he’d been waiting on the other side of the door, Stephen swung it open.

“Ha, Miss Foxley.” He extended his hand. Tamsin shook it and followed him inside. She’d asked him to call her by her first name too many times to repeat it again now.

Stephen ushered her into his living room. “Do sit down, please.” He reminded Tamsin of a teacher she’d had in elementary school—Mr Berry, a very formal, yet kind man who seemed to know everything. For the purpose of her visit, she decided to imagine it was her former teacher sitting across from her instead of her employer. “Can I offer you a refreshment?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Tamsin said.

“I’m having tea,” Stephen said. “But I don’t mind pouring you something stronger.”

“Tea will do just fine,” Tamsin said, regretting her words immediately. While Stephen went to get the tea she took a couple of deep breaths to steady her nerves. She told herself this was a fairly inconsequential conversation, at least in the grand scheme of things. She was only here out of courtesy—and because, from painful experience, she knew how these things could spiral out of control if she didn’t get ahead of them. Telling the Royal Tynebury Golf Club’s president about her relationship with one of its members was the only way for Tamsin to do this.

She had discussed it with Diane, who had been apprehensive, but once Tamsin had reminded her what had happened at her previous club, Diane had come around. Now that word was out, it would be best to get it all out into the open as soon as possible.

On the phone with Eve, she had railed against having to go through this process at all, because surely she wouldn’t need to come out to the president if she’d struck up a relationship with a male member of the club, but this was simply how things stood. Tamsin might be out and proud, but the very fact of even having to call it that was proof that true equality was still light years away—and would, perhaps, always be an illusion.

Anyone who deviated from the norm only a fraction had to go through a myriad of tiny humiliations and degradations in their daily life, she had said into the phone. As usual, Eve had listened patiently and then, also as usual, had said, “Just grin and bear it, Tazzie. You’ll survive.” Eve reminded Tamsin so much of their mother when she said things in a dry tone like that.

Stephen emerged from the kitchen with a tray in his hands. He made quick work of pouring them each a cup. He sat in a well-worn club chair with its back to the window, slung one leg over the other, and said, “What can I do for you, Miss Foxley.”

“Well, Mr Bradshaw”—she thought it better to address him formally as well for the occasion—“I feel as though I need to tell you something about myself.” When she’d interviewed for the position of pro at the club, the reason why she’d left her former club had never been mentioned. To say things like that out loud was not the way things were done—and was certainly not how you landed a job at a bastion of conservatism like a golf club.

Stephen drew up his eyebrows and took a sip from his tea. He gave the slightest of nods. The whole setting made Tamsin feel as though she’d been sent to the headmaster’s office for inappropriate behaviour, even though she’d come here of her own volition—and she hadn’t done anything wrong.

Tamsin pushed a strand of stray hair behind her ear. There really was no point beating about the bush. She had no idea how Stephen would react. “The thing is, Mr Bradshaw, I’m here to tell you that I’ve become romantically involved with a member of the club.”

Stephen waved off her statement instantly. “I really don’t see how that’s any of my business. In fact, the contract of employment you have with the club forbids me to even inquire about your private life.”

“That may be so, but, um, I wanted to inform you anyway. The person I’m involved with is… a woman, you see. Diane Thompson, to be exact.”

Stephen sat up a little straighter and put his cup and saucer down. “Even so,” he muttered, visibly flustered, “it’s still none of my business.”

“The reason why I came here to tell you this is because I had trouble with a similar situation at Chalstone. The circumstances were very different, but I’d much rather be totally open about it this time around.” This morning, after she’d slept on the matter, Diane had, very surprisingly, offered to accompany Tamsin when she went to see Stephen. But this was something Tamsin needed to do on her own. Plus, the two of them waltzing into the president’s home, with the unmistakable energy between them, would only put his hackles up.

“Well,” he said, then went silent for a moment. “In that case, I must thank you for informing me.” He rubbed a finger over the thin stubble on his chin.

“There will undoubtedly be rumours,” Tamsin said. “Perhaps you’ve caught wind of them already. Either way, I thought you should know and that you should hear it from me.”

Stephen nodded. “Just so you know, we didn’t reject Matthew Hawkes’ membership application because he’s, um, a homosexual.” He lifted his finger. “I can see how it could be construed that way, but the fact of the matter was that we simply couldn’t admit any more new members. The sport of golf is on the up, as you know, and we had so many applications.”

“I’m sure the admission board had its reasons.” Tamsin wasn’t so sure Stephen was being entirely truthful, but she appreciated the gesture.

“If he applies again next season, he’ll be first on the list.” His finger kept wagging, as though he very much had a point to prove.

The contrast with when she’d found herself in her former club’s president’s living room couldn’t be greater. Stephen wasn’t exactly jumping for joy at the news, but he simply wasn’t the kind to jump for anything. Of course, Tamsin had no way of knowing how he really felt about it, but that was, in the end, none of her concern.

“I love working at the RTGC,” she said. “I hope to be a part of the team for a very long time to come.”

“I see no reason why you shouldn’t, Miss Foxley.”

Tamsin took another hasty sip from her tea, then made to get up. “I won’t disturb you any longer,” she said.

Stephen pushed himself out of his chair. “Very well.” He walked her to the door and, before he closed it behind her, he said, “Any rumours you might hear about this won’t come from me. You can be sure about that.”

Tamsin nodded, shook his hand again, and headed to Diane’s.