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bizarre notion. ‘Well, for instance, I don’t recognize that jersey. How old am I there? Six? Seven? I simply can’t remember having a stripy jersey in those bright colours. And look at the background of this one. Whose car is that?’
    Lottie peered. ‘I don’t know. What are you trying to say?’
    â€˜I’m not sure. It’s just this sense of disorientation I have when I look at them.’
    â€˜Have you shown them to Imogen?’
    â€˜No. I don’t like to tell her that there aren’t any of her.’
    â€˜But we’ve got albums full of photos of both of you. She knows how odd Helen was at the end. I think you’re being oversensitive.’
    â€˜Perhaps.’ He shuffled the photographs together and put them away.
    She watched him, once more aware of the strange sensation she’d had when he’d first arrived: of a shadow at his shoulder.
    â€˜What is it?’ he asked sharply.
    â€˜Nothing.’ She looked away. ‘I was thinking of lots of different things. Of where Im and Jules will go at Easter. And of Nick.’
    He looked relieved. ‘Yes, of course. It’s all a bit worrying, isn’t it?’

    â€˜What’s worrying?’ Milo came in behind him.
    Matt made a little face at Lottie and slipped tactfully away.
    â€˜Sara just phoned,’ she said. ‘She says that Nick and Alice are having a few disagreements. She makes it sound rather serious.’
    His broad shoulders sagged and his bleak expression filled her with compassion. She wondered whether it was especially difficult for divorced people to comment on other people’s marital problems. What must Sara and Milo be feeling now; what memories must be surfacing?
    â€˜Maybe it’s just a bad patch,’ she suggested diffidently. ‘All marriages have them.’
    â€˜Are other people involved?’
    â€˜Sara didn’t say. She doesn’t really know. Alice has gone off to her mother with the children for the half-term break and Nick isn’t invited. Sara was expecting him to lunch. I expect he’ll tell her more when he sees her.’
    â€˜What else did she say?’
    Lottie decided to distract him from his anxiety for Nick. ‘She said that she hoped you weren’t going to exercise your talent for philanthropy again and offer Im and Jules a home.’
    He laughed unwillingly. ‘Oh, for God’s sake! The woman’s obsessed. Or perhaps she has second sight.’
    â€˜I know. After our conversation about the Summer House I wondered about that too. I hung up on her.’
    â€˜Good for you. Shall we have a drink? Lunch is nearly ready. Where did Matt disappear to?’
    â€˜I think he thought he was being tactful. I’d just told him about Nick.’
    â€˜Give him a shout.’ Milo disappeared into the kitchen. ‘We’ll try not to worry until we know the whole story.’

CHAPTER FIVE
    After lunch, Milo settled in the garden room in the little upright wicker chair that these days he found more comfortable than upholstered armchairs or sofas. He loved this sunny room, with the geraniums ranged along the windowsills, and the chair cushions still covered with the pretty faded chintz that his mother had favoured. There was a low, round oak table – whose two shelves were generally piled with books – which could be wheeled close up to his chair and, on the bench along the wall, Lottie’s nests of knitting were heaped into big wicker baskets. She often worked two or three garments concurrently so that there was always a variety of textures and colour.
    The afternoon sunshine warmed Milo and he closed his eyes, taking a deep sighing breath, relaxing. He was surprised at how tense he was; after all, he wasn’t an introspective kind of fellow. He wasn’t one for dwelling on the future and depressing himself about what might lie ahead – a complete waste of energy in his opinion