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breakfast.’ Eve shook her head. ‘I’ve got one for Andrew, too.’
    He joined them at the ticket barrier. ‘How early is this, Lara?’ he asked, but kissed her with his usual grace. ‘Fiancée and mother-in-law, I’m a lucky man.’
    He meant it and didn’t mean it. It was the kind of compliment he tossed out, oh, so charmingly. She held out the coffee. ‘Starter fuel. Any good?’
    ‘You know something?’ he said. ‘I think I want to marry you.’
    Eve slipped her hand into Andrew’s coat pocket. Beside him she looked small and fragile. ‘Only a tiny point, but I got there first.’
    Andrew shrugged. ‘Sorry about that.’ Above them the departures board flipped to reveal the platform. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he said. ‘We should have taken the car. It’s freezing and it might snow. Great.’
    ‘Much quicker on the train,’ said Eve, in her practical way. ‘Carbon footprint.’
    ‘Oh, God.’ Andrew rolled his eyes. ‘Not that.’ He turned a straight face on Lara. ‘
Now
I humour her but … just give it few years.’
    ‘No,’ said Eve, quietly. ‘You agree with me.’
    ‘Do I?’
    She looked up at him and said, ‘You do.’
    He rested his hands on her shoulders, turned her round and pushed her gently in the direction of the train. ‘If you say so.’
    On the journey down, Andrew and Eve sat opposite each other and didn’t talk much for the hour or so it took. Andrew hunched back on the seat and closed his eyes, an unread newspaper on his lap. Lara squinted at the top story’s headline, speculating on the date of the general election. This year, next year, some time, never, she thought. Eve opened her laptop (which never left her) and tapped away. The demands of the on-line high-fashion retailer for whom she worked never let up. Once, she lifted her eyes to Lara. ‘I have a good feeling about Membury,’ she said. ‘Don’t you?’
    Mum, you won’t leave me like my real mum did?
    No, Evie, I won’t.
    A landscape of frost-embellished back gardens, washing lines and scrubby infill plantings of pines flew past. Clickety-clack went the train, and Lara computed the things that mattered to its rhythm. Eve and Andrew had somewhere to live
. Clickety-clack
. Andrew’s parents had offered them a run-down cottage in the grounds of their larger house. They were handsome and capable.
Clickety-clack
. Their future seemed straightforward. It seemed good.
Clickety-clack
. How different would things be, having a daughter married?
    Clickety-clack.
    Halfway down, flakes of snow drifted past the carriage window but didn’t settle.
    Every so often, Eve consulted her phone.
    ‘Evie, darling, it’s the weekend.’
    She raised those remarkable eyes from the screen and sent Lara a funny little smile. ‘Haven’t you noticed that work is twenty-four/seven these days?’
    Well, yes, she had.
    Andrew said, ‘Let me sleep, girls.’
    So easy his manner.
    From the station at Middleford, the taxi driver took them down a couple of lanes, and Andrew, who had woken up, said, ‘Will this work?’ The lane had narrowed. ‘It’s much easier access at my parents’ house. People will get stuck down here.’
    Eve looked alarmed. ‘Don’t.’ She flashed him her special smile. ‘Trust me.’
    ‘I do. I do.’ Now his phone went round and round between his fingers.
    Lara looked out of the window at the undulating Hampshire countryside, the frost painting it with a Dickensian sparkle. Settled into it was a traditional-looking village, which, as the result of new builds on its flanks, showed signs of sprawl. It had a grey-stone church, far too substantial for the size of the village, which probably indicated that it had been built on the profits of the medieval wool industry.
    ‘I’m so excited,’ said Eve.
    Lara hunched forward. A wedding here would be picture postcard, no doubt of that. No city dirt and grime to soil the hem of a wedding dress – only soil and good, honest mud.
    Andrew read her thoughts.