“Oh, by the way,” said Matt, opening his eyes. I leaned forward, smiling, eager. “Did you call the solicitor?”

“The solicitor?”

“Mr. Fenwick, darling... Did you call him like I asked you to? We were supposed to contact him to discuss the estate and so forth, this week.”

“We were?” I said, blankly.

“Yes, I asked you to do it before I left. When we were having dinner. Don’t you remember?”

“No,” I said, feeling guilty. Not only had I forgotten to do what I was asked, I’d forgotten Matt even asking me to. I must have been more pissed than I realised.

Matt frowned. “But I asked you specially. I distinctly remember asking you. You really can’t remember?”

“No,” I said. “Sorry. I’ve–”

“You’ve what?”

I reached for the whisky bottle again and topped up my drink.

“I’ve had a lot of my mind lately,” I said. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry with me.”

“I’m not angry,” said Matt, “It just worries me how much you forget things, that’s all. It really does. I can’t believe anyone can be so absent-minded.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll phone him first thing tomorrow, I promise I will.”

Matt sighed. “Oh, I shouldn’t be so hard on you,” he said, reaching out his arms. I settled gratefully into them. “You’ve had a tough time of it lately, God knows.”

That was when I should have told him. I should have confessed my worries, my anxiety that I was slipping. I didn’t. He began to kiss me and, with relief, I kissed him back.

Chapter Seven

I asked Matt to marry me on Boxing Day, six months after we met. It came as something of a surprise to me, as well as to him, but it wasn’t the first time I’d done something life-changing on impulse.

We were walking in the garden at Caernaven, trying to work off some of the Christmas dinner of the day before. Our breath steamed away before us; the ground was brittle with frost. The sky was grey and low and as we walked, and I watched a solitary crow flap across the clouds, a little moving inkblot against the dirty white sky.

“Oh, the fish pond’s frozen,” I said, as we turned the corner of the walk and came back onto the terrace. “We’ll have to pour some boiling water on the ice so the fish can breathe.”

“Wouldn’t it be quicker to smash it?” said Matt, who was stamping his feet and blowing into his cupped, gloved hands.

“No, the shock waves can kill them,” I said, happy to tell him something he didn’t know. We both looked at the frozen water, grey ripples of ice powdered with a dusting of snow. A blackened water lily leaf protruded from the surface.

“Come on,” I said, somehow saddened by the sight.

“Your whole childhood is here, isn’t it?” said Matt as we walked away.

“I suppose so.”

Cornwall came into my mind. Eight weeks out of a lifetime spent there, just two short months, and yet it had affected the rest of my life... I wasn’t going to tell him that yet, though. Suddenly it came to me that I would be able to tell him one day; that I would be able to tell him everything about me, and be comfortable doing it. I stared at him as we trudged through the frosty grass, dazzled by the realisation. As I had this revelation, my path forward became clear. I wanted that one day to be this day. I wanted our future together to start right now.

“Matt, will you marry me?“

The moment the words were out of my mouth I wanted to laugh, they sounded so silly. Matt stopped walking.

“What?” he said.

I cleared my throat and asked again.

“Are you being serious?” he said. He’d turned to face me fully; his eyes were darting from all over my face, trying to read my expression. He was trying to spot the hidden smirk, the inward smile that would signal to him I was joking.

“I’m not joking,” I said. “I’d like to marry you. Would you like to marry me?”

I think it started sinking in then. He put a gloved hand up to his mouth and I saw his breath huff out in a surprised cloud.

“You are serious.” A smile started to break through on his face. “My God.”

“So what’s your answer?”

I felt irresistibly light hearted, all of a sudden, nothing like the solemnity the occasion was supposed to provoke.

Matt started to laugh. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

I began to laugh too. We didn’t touch each other, not then; we just stood there, laughing at each other’s expressions, our high spirits visible on the frosty air as smoky white clouds. Despite the cold, I had warmth blooming within me, as if a giant sunflower had spread its yellow petals in my chest. I was going to marry Matt. I felt light-headed, oddly dreamlike.

We carried on walking, holding hands. Every so often a giggle would bubble out of me. Matt kept glancing sideways at me, half incredulous.

“I keep thinking you’re going to say ‘got you!’” he said. “And it’ll all have been a hilarious joke.”

I turned to him and put my gloved hands up to his face. The pale winter light bleached out his skin, removing the crows’ feet from the corners of his eyes. His stubble looked very dark; I could feel it catch on the wool of my gloves.

“I wouldn’t joke about that,” I said.

He kissed me and then drew back. “Aren’t I supposed to ask your father for your hand in marriage, or something?”

I’d been smiling and, at his words, I could feel the smile die on my face. I hadn’t thought of Angus once since I’d asked my question; a small miracle. Was I scared of Angus’s reaction? I wasn’t scared of him, I decided, I just couldn’t stand his relentless negativity. I just knew he wouldn’t approve of what I’d done. Maybe – and this was another thought I pushed away as soon as I’d had it – maybe that was why I’d done it.

“Oh, don’t worry about that nonsense,” I said as carelessly as possible. “I’m a modern girl, I’ll go and ask him. Tell him, I mean.”

Matt looked uncertain. “If you’re sure–”

I nodded and took his hand. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’ll all be fine. Leave it to me.”

Angus was in the sitting room, in his usual chair by the fire. The door was fully open. I paused in the hallway, out of his line of sight. Matt stood beside me and I turned and whispered to him to leave me.

“Are you sure?” he asked. I nodded. He walked away and I watched his long, flat back disappear around the turn of the staircase. Then I took a deep breath, and knocked on the open door.

He looked up from his paper. I had a smile on my face that at once felt forced and over-bright.

“Maudie,” he said, nothing more than an acknowledgement.

I remembered him sitting by the side of my bed, during the bad time. The bedclothes were tight about me; I couldn’t move my arms properly. He said something to me; what was it, now? You’re all I have. That sounded like something born out of love, but was it? Perhaps what he meant was that I wasn’t enough.

“Angus,” I said, hesitantly.

“What is it?”

I stepped forward and warmed my hands at the fire so I didn’t have to look at him directly. All of a sudden I was quaking.

I took a deep breath. Angus had put down his paper and was looking directly at me.

“Maudie?”

I forced a smile on my face as I turned to face him. “I’ve got some wonderful news. Matt and I–” my throat closed up suddenly and I couldn’t finish. I coughed and tried again. “Matt and I are going to be married.”

It still sounded ridiculous. Angus was very still.

“Is that so?”

I nodded, again unable to speak. There was a long moment of silence, but I kept the smile on my face. After a while, my cheeks began to ache.

Angus still said nothing. His hard grey eyes were fixed on my face, his gaze pinned to mine.

“Aren’t you pleased?” I asked, immediately cringing. Why had I said that? Why did I say things like that, why did I ask, when I knew the answer was never, ever what I wanted to hear? Why did I lay myself open, scraping and bowing for his approval, when it never, ever came?