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tiredness. Had that, after all, been Joe agreeing with her simply to avoid a fight? Had he assumed, all this time, that it was just a phase, and that one day he could make her change her mind?
    She pulled herself together. She was tired and stressed and not thinking straight. Hadn’t Joe proved enthusiastic about the idea of investing their money and their energies into escaping the rat race to a country cottage in Devon with a smallholding attached? He’d agreed that they would have a far better quality of life with a business of their own that they could run together.
    It wasn’t as if she was asking him to give up his brilliant career. As long as she’d known him, Joe had been talking about setting up his own Accountancy Practice and – as he had agreed – where better than a small town within easy reach of the Devon countryside? Somewhere with lower costs than a big city and less competition. Plus sun, sea and surf, and a less frenetic pace of living. A kind of life where they might, after all, consider raising a family.
    Far from driving them apart, the plan had pulled them back together again. She had financially supported them as Joe went through his final exams. Then he had taken over in his turn, enabling her to work part-time so that she could fulfil that dream of a horticultural course. Surely he wouldn’t have done that if he hadn’t meant it?
    ‘Coffee?’ said Joe, his back still turned.
    ‘Thanks,’ she returned, mechanically.
    ‘Or there’s some wine left in the fridge?’
    She didn’t want to fight. And, above all, she didn’t want to fight with Joe. ‘Yes please,’ she whispered, finding herself struggling with tears.
    ‘Ah, come here.’ He turned round, gathering her into his arms. Cari snuffled ignominiously into his shoulder. ‘There’s no need to make a decision now. We can talk about it tomorrow.’
    ‘Joe…’
    His lips brushed her hair gently. ‘Bath,’ he said. ‘With all those girly smelly things. And candles.’
    ‘I don’t want …’
    He kissed her firmly on the mouth, silencing her protest. ‘There’s nothing we can’t discuss later.’ His eyes were soft on hers, his smile the boyish charm she could never quite resist, however cross he might make her. ‘Go on, off you go. Your waiter here will bring you a glass of the finest and then order the takeaway. What do you fancy: Indian or pizza?’
    ‘Pizza,’ said Carys, feeling herself relax and giving him a watery smile.
    ‘Excellent choice, Ms Evans. Good comfort food. Just what the doctor ordered. And I’m sure I can unearth a tub of Ben and Jerry’s in the freezer for afters…’
     
    ‘It’s a quite lot to ask of him,’ said Poppy, mildly, eying her friend with a thoughtful air.
    Carys sighed. ‘Yes, I know. I’m sure the women at Tylers think I’m mad, even thinking of going off for a couple months like that without him, and they wouldn’t blame Joe if he just upped sticks and left me.’
    They were sitting in the tiny conservatory that opened up into the neat rectangle of Poppy’s garden, and which was about the only baby-free space in the house. Unless you counted the eternal whirr of the washing machine stealing in from the kitchen, that is.
    ‘So,’ said Poppy, who never beat about the bush, not even in the throes of very new motherhood. ‘Just why do you want to do it?’
    ‘I don’t.’ Carys met the raised eyebrows of Poppy on bullshit alert. That’s what she loved about her friend. No getting away with anything with Poppy. ‘Oh, I don’t know. It’ll sound silly.’
    ‘Try me.’
    ‘When I left Pont-ar-Eden village, all I could think about was getting away. You’re only thinking about the future, aren’t you, when you’re eighteen. I suppose now I’m older – and starting to think about maybe having children after all – I suppose I want to kind of lay it to rest. If that makes sense? I’m about to change my life. Maybe it’s time to put the past properly behind me, once