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“My favourite.” Eileen smiled.

Mary made it home a little after eight, exhaustion threatening to shut her mind down. Mr Monkels was waiting by the window. She watched him stretch in anticipation of her key turning. He approached, tail wagging. She rubbed his head and together they walked upstairs. She fell onto her bed and he flopped beside her. Within minutes they were sleeping soundly.

She didn’t wake until mid-afternoon the following day. Her eyes opened to the sound of Mr Monkels licking himself with the enthusiasm he usually reserved for prohibited foodstuffs. She sat up and looked out of the small square window. The sky resembled a perfect light blue silk and was cloudless. She stood up and went to look outside. Below, a woman walked past wearing sunglasses and pushing a pram with a parasol protecting a little face from the hot sun. Ivan was varnishing the deck of his boat, which he’d been promising to do all year. Chris emerged from the water and hauled himself aboard – his father pushed him back in, to Justine’s glee. The little girl threw her head back, laughing, perched on the side, swinging her legs. Mossy sat in his front garden, smoking a cigarette and cutting his toenails. His battered old radio was dangling by its cord from the window and from it Van Morrison sang to her about the water and the rain.

Before she noticed the absence of Sam’s car, she knew he was gone.

27. Those left behind

It was a warm September evening. Mary drove home, anticipating a walk in the woods with Mr Monkels. She was determined to make the most of the weather and her time before it changed and she left. She’d stop at the plaque that bore her son’s name and walk through the trees with her camera in hand. Since Penny had returned, she had often joined Mary and Mr M and, while Mr M investigated the undergrowth, they’d gossip and laugh about all manner of subjects.

It was during one such walk some weeks earlier that Mary had confided she had been accepted into a photography course in London.

“You’re joking?”

“No.”

“Congratulations, you deserve it.”

Mary was grinning from ear to ear.

“When?” Penny asked.

“Next month.”

“I can take Mr Monkels,” Penny offered. “I’d love to help.”

“Dad’s having him, but thanks.”

“Good for you,” Penny said, and they stopped to watch the sun dance on the water.

“You’ll come and visit?” Mary asked.

“Absolutely.” Her friend hooked her arm through Mary’s. “Any excuse to shop in London.”

“You’ll be OK?”

“I will.” Penny smiled. “It’s all changed. It was the same for so long and now it’s not.”

“It’s better?”

“It’s much better.”

But this evening Penny wouldn’t be joining them on their walk – she was going to her cooking class.

Mary got home a little after six and called to Mr Monkels. He didn’t come out of the kitchen or down the stairs. He wasn’t stretched out on the sofa or by the window. He wasn’t in the garden because earlier he had made it very clear that he had no wish to go out, despite the warm weather. She made her way upstairs.

“Mr Monkels!” she called. “Where are you, boy?”

She found him on her bed but this time he wouldn’t wake. She knew instantly that he was gone. She sat beside him, kissed his furry face and then called the vet.

After he’d left Mossy helped her carry her dog downstairs.

“He wouldn’t stay to see you leave, Mare,” Mossy said.

“Yeah,” she agreed, blowing her nose.

“It’s for the best.”

“I know,” she said, with a sob. “I’ll really miss him, Mossy.”

“Of course you will,” Mossy said, patting her back. “Mr Monkels was a fine dog, loving and faithful and –”

“Mossy.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Right.”

Mossy made tea while Mary sat stroking Mr Monkels. Ivan was the first to arrive, with Sienna trailing behind. Their separation hadn’t lasted long. In fact they had only managed a week apart when Norma had announced she’d found a job and a new place to live. Once Ivan had approved the house as fit for his wife and children, he insisted on paying the rent. Norma and the kids moved out and, one long conversation