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failing.
    ‘I agree. I can’t cook. I don’t have a clue where my iron is and I haven’t used a Hoover since my last day at university.’
    ‘Yet you still want his approval?’
    She nodded. ‘Stupidly. I always have. Although I really don’t know why I still bother. I mean, he barely knows you yet he admires you in a way he’s never admired me even though he’s known me for thirty-one years. We work in similar fields, for goodness’ sake, yet he’s never offered me help. Whatever I achieve he’ll never think it amounts to as much as marriage and a family would. Which is ironic, really, when you think about how badly he screwed his up.’
    ‘Is his attitude to women why your parents divorced?’
    She shook her head. ‘I think that was mainly because of his many, many affairs. But the attitude couldn’t have helped.’
    ‘So what did you mean when you said your ambition was his fault?’
    ‘Exactly that. The divorce hit me hard. Despite what he’d done I adored him. When he moved out I spent quite a lot of my time at school pathetically crying in the bathrooms. As a result I was bullied.’
    That odd protective streak surged up inside him again and he frowned. ‘Badly?’ he asked, pushing it back.
    ‘Not really. Small-scale stuff. But one day I’d had enough and decided to channel my energies into studying instead of blubbing my eyes out.’
    ‘Is it a coincidence you’re a lawyer?’
    She arched an eyebrow and shot him a quick smile. ‘What do you think?’
    ‘I think Freud would have a field day.’
    ‘Very probably.’
    ‘But why corporate law? Why not divorce law?’
    ‘Experiencing it once—even though sort of vicariously—was quite enough,’ she said with a shudder.
    Marcus watched her as she began to walk further along the path and thought that, while he did think she had a problem with her work-life balance, her drive and focus when it came to her career were admirable. She’d worked hard and deserved everything she had. ‘What you’ve achieved is impressive,’ he said, reaching her with a couple of long, quick strides. ‘Especially with so little encouragement.’
    She glanced over at him, surprised. ‘Thanks.’
    ‘You deserve everything you have.’
    ‘Wow,’ she said slowly. ‘I never thought I’d hear you say that.’
    ‘Neither did I.’
    They continued in silence for a moment. Celia brushed her hand over a planter full of lavender and a faint smile curved her lips, presumably at the scent released.
    ‘Anyway, you haven’t always had it easy, have you?’ she said.
    ‘No,’ he said, although he’d got over the death of his parents and the trouble he’d subsequently had years ago.
    ‘So you’ve done pretty impressively too.’
    Funny how the compliment warmed him. The novelty of a sign of approval after so many years of the opposite. Or maybe it was just the sun beating down on the thick fabric of his coat. ‘Thanks,’ he muttered.
    She turned to look at him and her expression was questioning. ‘Why am I telling you all this anyway?’
    ‘I have no idea.’
    ‘Must be the brandy.’
    ‘Must be.’
    ‘I don’t need sorting out, you know.’
    ‘Of course you don’t.’
    ‘I don’t need rescuing.’
    ‘I know.’
    She shot him a quick smile. ‘I definitely don’t need to see my father for at least a decade.’
    ‘A century, I should think.’
    At the fountain that sat in the middle of the garden they turned left and carried on strolling down the path, passing raspberry nets and then runner-bean vines that wound up tall, narrow bamboo teepees before stopping at a bench that sat at the end of the path amidst the runner beans.
    ‘I’m sorry, Marcus,’ she said eventually.
    He frowned, not needing her continued apology and not really liking it because, honestly, he preferred her fighting. ‘So you said.’
    ‘No, not about that,’ she said with a wave of her hand. ‘I mean about the things I implied you were going to do with your time now you’d