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more. An undertow of sadness tugged at her, that and fear
of the future. Nothing would be the same now.
    The path took her along the track that ran between fields of dying sunflowers, their large blackened heads turned away from the sun, hanging dejected towards the ground, their leaves pale and
wilting. But she was oblivious to her surroundings until she passed the field containing rows of glittering black solar panels. Just beyond them she turned up the hill, past a narrow vineyard, to
the edge of a small oak wood. There the track became a narrow path, less stony underfoot, that she followed up and round the edge of the trees till she reached a clearing where the treeline drew
back behind a patch of rocks. This was where she always came when she needed time out, rediscovering it with every change of season.
    From this vantage point she could see down the valley to vineyards like perfect corduroy, and two old farmhouses basking in the heat. In the distance, a small medieval hilltop village, its
church spire marking the summit. The sound of children shouting carried up to her on the air, then the solemn tolling of the monastery bell – every hour on the hour. She settled herself on
her favourite rock, the one that dipped against a taller one to make a natural seat, and took out her sketchbook, watercolours and paintbrushes.
    Within ten minutes she was absorbed in capturing the landscape, the trees and the light and shade of the valley around her, as the sun began its slow descent. Daniel, their marriage, gradually
retreated to the back of her mind as she concentrated on her painting. When the bell tolled the hour again, she came to, almost surprised at having cleared her mind so successfully. Six
o’clock. Immediately her focus switched to home. Anna would be arriving soon, and she must be there to greet her. Daniel would be awake and wondering where she was. Then:
Miss. Love. Come
back
. Each word a knife thrust to her heart.
    She laid her pad on the ground beside her, her thoughts turning around her marriage again. But as she cleaned her brush, then threw out the coloured water from the jar, she identified an
additional emotion to the disbelief, pain and confusion she’d experienced since the morning. The first stirrings of anger were adding themselves to the cocktail. After all these years, how
dare he? After everything they’d been through together, Daniel was prepared to toss the whole lot away.
    If she knew him at all, he’d be finding confession difficult. How long had it taken him to admit that he and Eve had been lovers, albeit briefly? He didn’t tell her that for one
whole year. A year in which her friendship with Eve had been built on her ignorance. Eve had kept her silence too. By the time Daniel had finally admitted the truth of their relationship, all three
of them and Will had become so close that Rose hadn’t wanted to unpick things. She loved Daniel and was confident he loved her. Eve was her closest friend by then and deep into her
relationship with Will. If anything, sharing Daniel had brought them closer together. The deceit had only been for her benefit and their affair was in the past. Unlike this one. Well, so be it. She
would wait until he had no option but to confess. And then she would be ready.
    Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she started for home with a heavy heart. By the time she arrived, the others were on the terrace. She heard the click of dominoes, Eve’s voice and then
Daniel’s laughter before she slipped into the house, dropped off her stuff in the studio and went up to their bedroom. Leaving her painting clothes on the bed, she went into the bathroom and
turned on the shower. While the water warmed up, she brushed her teeth, staring at her reflection. A middle-aged woman stared back, although something of the tomboy that she had once been was still
close to the surface: hair cut short to frame her face, skin freckled, and the beginnings of a few fine