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I squinted at my husband. ‘She tells you she's dying and you push her hair back?’

‘Well, I—’

‘Oh, Ant.’

‘What?’

‘Ant!’

‘What? What should I have—’

‘You should have taken her in your arms!’ I roared. ‘Held her close, held her tight, my God, Ant!’ I gazed at him. What kind of uptight emotionally repressed academic was he?

He shrugged helplessly. ‘I didn't know what to do, what to say. I needed you then, Evie. You'd have known what to do.’ He looked at me beseechingly. ‘She'd have sobbed on your shoulder, told you everything, but I couldn't.’

I shot my fingers through my hair as I stared at him.

‘You came to meet me in the garden together, all smiley.’

‘Because she was smiley,’ he said desperately. ‘I just took my cue from her.’

‘You should have stopped me going home, taken me to one side – told me!’

‘I know, I know, but—’

‘Oh Lord,’ I breathed. I remembered them waving me off, her diminutive figure beside his. So brave. And Ant, smiling, waving too, playing a part. What part? What planet was he on? But actually – oh, what did it matter: the girl was dying. What did it matter how emotionally strait-jacketed my husband was? What did it matter he probably suggested popping the kettle on? I scratched my head energetically. Stood up again, needing to distance myself.

I heard him sigh behind me. He knew me very well. I turned. He looked wretched. I swallowed my irritation and went to sit beside him, took his hand.

‘Is that why they asked us up there?’

‘Yes. Mostly.’

‘So does Anna know?’

‘Yes. I told her.’

‘Which is why she's so upset?’

‘She was terribly shaken.’

‘But why with me? Why is she angry with me?’

He took a deep breath. ‘Because… one thing I did do, when Bella and I talked later, with the girls, which I shouldn't have done without consulting you, and the reason I needed to talk to you face to face, and didn't want Anna saying anything first…’ This was all coming out in a bit of a rush. He stopped, hesitating.

I frowned. ‘Is?’

‘Is I promised to look after Stacey.’

‘Well of course.’

‘No,’ he swallowed. Didn't meet my gaze. Kept his firmly on the duvet. ‘Not just keep an eye. Really look after her. For ever. With us.’

I stared.

‘To live here with us. To bring her up – what's left of her upbringing – here, in Oxford. I'm her father, Evie. And I haven't been much of a father so far. She needs me. Bella asked me. And I said yes.’

My heart thudded. Which is all it took. A heart beat. I'm ashamed it took that long.

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ I repeated.

He looked at me. I glimpsed fear vanishing from his eyes. Then they filled up. ‘Oh, Evie.’

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, his eyes screwed tight. I'd never seen him cry. Not even after Neville. It only lasted a moment. He unbuckled his face and let out a breathy sigh.

‘What did you think I'd say?’

‘I didn't know. I'm really appalled to say, I didn't know. But I should have known. But…’ he struggled, ‘she's mine, after all, not yours. And Anna's too, of course, and we thought—’

‘Anna thought I'd say no, too?’

I remembered her face in the car: challenging, defensive, gold earrings glistening aggressively.

‘She came back from town that day with Stacey and you'd gone, so she assumed you'd flounced off home, couldn't hack it. You told me not to tell her about Hector so—’

‘Oh, Ant, use your judgement! I didn't know the girl was dying!’

‘Well, quite. Perhaps I should have,’ he licked his lips nervously, ‘perhaps I should have said. But then later, when she found out about Bella – well, she assumed you'd say… well, it's a big ask.’

I was shocked. They both thought I'd say no. That I wouldn't welcome Stacey into our family. Wouldn't bring up someone else's child. And actually, if he'd asked me in the beginning, when he'd first got the letter, yes, I might well have said forget it. A big ask. Was it? I supposed it was. But it didn't feel like it now. What – that shy, sweet, seventeen-year-old girl? With no