‘I just wanted to ask you something.’ Thomas lingered on the porch.
‘What?’
‘Can you have Poppy ready on Friday? We’re going away for the weekend.’
‘You are?’
‘It’s Nicole’s birthday. We’re going to the beach house for the weekend. The Fratellis are going, and so are the Simons, in fact most of our friends will be there. Poppy will enjoy it, I’m sure.’
Of course she would. Poppy loved the beach, and she loved the huge, wooden house that had been in the Marshalls’ hands for generations. They’d spent most of their summers there before … before …
Before their whole world had been shaken inside out.
Every time a memory hit, Juliet’s heart broke a little more for her child. It was her daughter who was paying the price. She’d had so much stolen from her already, and she didn’t even know it. Juliet was damned if she was going to let her child lose any more. Which was why she was going to keep things civil, even if it killed her.
‘I’ll have her ready,’ she said quietly. ‘What time will you be picking her up?’
‘I’ll pick her up from school. Can you send her suitcase in with her?’
‘Of course.’ Thomas had been an awful husband, but he was a good father, and she was grateful for that. Poppy was surrounded by love on all sides. She’d never feel lost or alone, the way Juliet had after her mother died. She’d never have to be the one singled out because her father was perpetually late.
Thomas nodded, and walked back to his car. She watched him from the doorway, and felt a sense of bewilderment at how fast her life had changed. Once upon a time she’d been so in love with Thomas Marshall it made her heart hurt. But with every day that passed the pain was dissipating, right along with the love.
One day he’d just be somebody she used to know.
*
An hour later, she was walking down through her back yard and to the woods beyond, clutching a bag full of soda cans and home-made cookies. Poppy was spending the day with Charlie and Ryan as they worked on a tree house, and Juliet was thankful she’d not seen the discussion between her and Thomas back at the house.
She heard them before she could see them. Loud shouts and giggles echoing through the forest, accompanied by the banging of a hammer, pushing nails into thick planks of wood. When she rounded the corner, the two children were standing at the bottom of the huge oak, watching as Ryan was half-suspended about ten feet up, his muscles flexing as he pulled the hammer back then launched it forward.
She’d never met a man who lived so much in the moment. He made decisions and went with them, never worrying about where he was going or where he came from. Look at the tree house – only a week ago Charlie was telling Poppy about the place they’d lived in when they stayed in the rainforest of Costa Rica, and the next minute Ryan was downloading plans for a tree house of their own.
He was so different from Thomas, even though they were from similar families, and brought up in the same town. She found it stupidly attractive.
‘I brought some snacks,’ she called out as she walked into the clearing. Poppy and Charlie looked up. Their eyes widened when they saw her bag of goodies, and the two of them ran over, their tiny hands already searching through the bag for their favourites.
It took Ryan a moment longer to realise she was there, but when he did, a big grin formed across his face. His obvious pleasure in seeing her warmed her from the inside. She was getting used to the way her body responded whenever she was around him, feeling like the giggly teenager she’d never been.
‘You brought me food, London?’ he called down. ‘Where have you been all my life? You’re a godsend.’
‘Always with the compliments,’ she said, grinning. ‘You need to stop doing that. I’ll get a big head.’ She grabbed a can of Coke, still ice cold from the refrigerator, and threw it across to him. He caught it easily, pulling the key, then lifted it to his lips. He closed his eyes, taking a long mouthful of drink. As soon as he swallowed it down, he sighed.
‘Man that’s good. Thanks for bringing the snacks.’
She shrugged. ‘Think of it as payment for looking after those two.’
They both turned to look at the children. They were arguing furiously over a packet of chips, neither of them willing to give in.
‘They’ve been bickering all afternoon,’ he told her. ‘They’re like an old married couple. I keep having to stop working on the tree house so I can silently laugh at them.’
‘What have they been doing?’ She was intrigued. Charlie and Poppy’s relationship seemed more like siblings than friends. They’d grown close so very quickly. Though they were fiercely protective of each other, they never seemed to agree on anything.
‘Poppy was talking about the kinds of flowers we should pick to put in the house.’
‘She was?’ Why did that surprise her? Poppy was constantly around flowers in the shop, after all.
‘Yeah, and Charlie wasn’t having any of it.’