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wait, it felt safe to do so. As we broke apart I felt his strong white teeth tug gently at my lower lip, and it was difficult not to pull him close again. ‘So,’ he said, in a voice that had turned faintly husky. He cleared his throat and tried again. ‘You think we should go somewhere we can walk together and hold hands, right in front of everyone?’
    ‘It sounds silly when you say it like that, but don’t you think it would be wonderful? We could go to the seaside –’
    ‘The weather won’t last more than another few days.’
    ‘Then we’ll go as soon as we can. We can take a picnic lunch.’
    Will sat up. ‘Why don’t we go to Blackpool?’
    ‘Blackpool?’ I tried not to sound disappointed; it was his home town, after all. But I’d hoped for somewhere a little more romantic.
    ‘Do you remember last year, when they lit it all up? Absolutely thousands of lights. For Princess Louise when she opened the promenade.’
    ‘Oh, yes, Ava Cartwright was there with her aunt. She did say it was beautiful,’ I conceded.
    ‘Well, Frank told me yesterday they were so successful, they plan on doing it again this year.’
    I nodded, warming to the idea. It didn’t really matter where we were, after all, provided we were together. ‘All right, we can travel separately, but on the same train, then spend the day and evening at the Pleasure Beach. We’ll see the lights, then be home before anyone’s even noticed.’
    ‘I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get away, but I’ll try.’
    ‘You’re looking a bit peaky,’ I said, putting a solicitous hand on his forehead.’
    He affected a look of deep suffering. ‘I believe you’re right. I feel a rather uncomfortable sickness coming on. Possibly in a few days.’
    I laughed. ‘How will I know when you’re going to be laid up with this awful illness?’
    ‘I’ll leave a message in the summer house, as long as Mr Shackleton’s not looking.’
    ‘He spends most of his time in the sheds at this time of year,’ I said. ‘I’ll check the summer house every day. Now I believe it’s time to return, and face the rather off-key music that’s waiting to accompany dinner.’
    David had left before I returned, declining dinner on the grounds that the walk in the sun had left him with a headache. I couldn’t help feeling cheated that he had appropriated my own excuse, and I was forced to dine
en famille
after all. Dinner was an awkward and silent affair; Mother kept looking at me narrowly, no doubt she had seen the blossoming bruise on David’s chin, and noted how he favoured his right ankle as he walked, and she clearly suspected I had something to do with both. Quite what she thought I had done, I didn’t know, but those looks across the table were enough to convince me she had her notions anyway.
    I missed Uncle Jack more than ever that evening; he was always the one to keep up a lively conversation and to dampen any signs of discord. I missed his gentle teasing, and the way he would coax Mother, in even the most morose of her moods, into a reluctant smile that made her beautiful and familiar again. He hadn’t been home since New Year’s Eve, almost nine months ago, and I was once more growing worried about Lizzy; the days were flying by for me, but every day she spent in that awful place must feel like a week. Mother clearly felt Jack’s absence almost as keenly as I did and I wondered, not for the first time, if the two of them were closer than they had led us to believe. I fervently hoped they were; there was no one I would rather have as a step-father than Jack Carlisle.
    Lawrence sensed the tension in the silence and kept raising his eyebrows at me, but I studiously ignored him, and he pouted when he realised he was being left out of something yet again. Subsequently he requested to leave the table the moment his last forkful was taken, and to avoid the inevitable questions I did the same. But Mother took the rare step of coming to find me