The Last Days of Summer

Every new story, every blank page, is a chance to create a whole new self. A new persona to try on, try out, and discard at the end of the story.

A writer lives more lives than any normal person can dream of, lives them with more life – and with more love.

From the notebooks of Nathaniel Drury

Ellie was in the kitchen, alone, when I found her the next morning. The others must have all already breakfasted, but after an emotional night reading, thinking and desperately trying to plan, I’d slept in. And when I woke up, I realised what I should have known from the start: I needed help.

It was time to break the truce. Time to deal with everything we’d been ignoring and see what happened next. Because something needed to change if we wanted to move on.

“Did you hear?” Ellie asked, not looking up from the cookery book in her hands. “Isabelle has decided to throw a proper wake for Nathaniel, here at Rosewood, tonight.”

But Ellie shook her head. “Just the family. She says that with it being the first of September tomorrow, it’s like we’re starting a whole new year. Whatever you said to her about the memoirs, it seems to have worked. She positively bounced down to breakfast this morning, like a huge weight had been lifted. Same with Mum, since she read that clipping.”

That was something, at least. Something good that I’d managed while I was home. Isabelle would grieve for Nathaniel for the rest of her life; I knew that. But at least she had let some of the guilt go.

Pulling out a chair, I sat down. “Actually, I was hoping we could talk.” Not allowing myself to think through too fully what I was doing, I pushed the envelope and letter towards her, my heart beating too fast, too hard inside me. Ellie stared at the letter, leaving it sat in the middle of the kitchen table.

“Nathaniel said he destroyed that,” Ellie said, her voice very soft. “I only gave it to him because…I knew if I posted it, that would be the end of us, and I couldn’t go back on that. Nathaniel read it, then he took it to give me time to think. To decide.”

I’d wondered why he’d had it. Whether he’d read it, before it was sealed, or if Ellie had just asked him to keep it safe. I’d hoped he’d remained ignorant to my betrayal. A sharp pain speared through my chest at the realisation that Nathaniel had known everything. Known exactly what I’d done, who I was. And he’d called me home, anyway. Left me to tell his final story.

“I think he was keeping it for me to read.” I reached out to take the letter back, but Ellie’s hand shot out and stopped me, pulling the envelope closer to her. “I think he wanted me to face the truth about what I’d done.” To read the bitter, hurt words my sister wrote and never sent. To understand exactly how much pain I’d caused. Because part of loving me was making me face up to my failures.

Ellie’s sharp blue eyes flashed up to catch mine. “And you think you’ve done that now?”

I shook my head, slowly. “No. Not entirely. I think there’s a lot more thinking and many more changes to make in my life before I can do that.”

“He was everything I had, Saskia. He still is.” The words should have sounded accusing, but somehow they came out more hurt.

“He’s not, you know,” I said, almost absently. “But that’s not the point. You have all sorts of wonderful things, not least our family, this house, a job you love. But I know that it’s Greg that means the most to you. And I never, ever meant to take that away from you.”

“I know he does. You’re the whole world to him. And I know now that he never really loved me, no matter what I thought at the time. It was a mistake. A hugely regrettable, ruining lives sort of mistake. The sort I never ever wanted to make again once I left here.”

“I should think not.” Ellie’s hands had crumpled around the letter, and her face was pale. It was possible, I realised, that this was just as hard for her as it was for me. Although not the next bit. The idea of saying the words filled me with dread, but I felt like my insides were turning black and dead just keeping the knowledge inside. I had to come clean, let out all my truths, and find my real self again, under all the lies.

“I realised, finally…I never really loved him either. I thought I did – I was so sure I knew what love was. But I was wrong. I know better now. It’s no excuse – there couldn’t be an excuse – but…I think we both just loved you so much, and you felt a million miles away. We screwed up hugely, me more than anyone. Because I was your little sister, and you kept my secret from our parents to protect me and that was even worse. So I’ll tell. I’ll tell the world. You don’t have to carry that any more, at least.”

Ellie was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke, her words were barely above a whisper. “I was maddest at Greg, you know. For hurting you. For coming between us. Isn’t that crazy?”

My heart ached just imagining it. I put my hand out on the table, palm up, just in case she wanted to take it. I could wait. As long as it took. “Not crazy. It just means you’re a far better sister than I ever could be. But I want to do better, I promise. Edward…he said I play make-believe with my life, twisting the facts to make them fit the story I’m telling. I think maybe that’s what I did with Greg, and that’s why I know I have to stop. I have to face life as it is, not as the story I imagine.”

Ellie stared at my hand. “In that case…what’s going on with you and Edward? The truth, not the story.”

“I wish I knew. Things were… They were great. Until yesterday. But…Edward is how I know that I wasn’t in love with Greg. Because I know what love feels like now. And that’s why… I know I have no right to ask you this. But I need your help. I need to make things right with him.”

Ellie considered me, her head tipped to the side. “Playing make-believe,” she said. “That’s what he said?”

“I can see what he means, I suppose,” Ellie said, her tone thoughtful. “You have always preferred your version of reality to anyone else’s.”

Ellie gave a small laugh, and just for a moment, pressed her fingers against mine. It felt like absolution, like peace, or the rain after the storm, running over my whole body. She pulled away again, but she was still smiling. “Sorry. It’s just, I never thought of it that way, before. That the things you did… You didn’t always see them the way the rest of us did.”

“It might have made things easier. For you, as well as the rest of us,” Ellie conceded. “But that’s not the point, now. You’re right. We need to figure out how to fix things with you and Edward. Get you a real, bona fide happy ever after. At least, I’m assuming that’s what you want?” She raised a knowing eyebrow and I nodded miserably.

“It would be a start. It’s number two on my list of things to do to fix my life.”

Ellie’s cheeks turned a very pretty pink. “You know,” she said, watching me carefully. “As furious as I was with you, especially back then, one thing I was never sure about was whether you were mad at me, too.”

Ellie shrugged. “Because I won. Because Greg married me anyway. Because you were cast out into the wilderness, so to speak. I’m not sure.”

“That helps, I think.” Ellie was still watching me closely, and it was starting to get a little bit intimidating. I checked the clock. Gone midday. That was respectable enough, right?

“You know,” I said, getting to my feet, “I think that if we’re going to fix this, we’ll need alcohol.”

I had the fridge door already open and my hand was reaching for the white wine when Ellie said, “Actually, I’m not really…drinking, at the moment.”

I turned back to face her, the fridge chilling my back as I left the door wide open. My befuddled and confused brain tried to remember if I’d seen Ellie drink at all since I got home. I hadn’t really been paying much attention, but I couldn’t remember her with a wine glass in her hand. Not that Ellie had ever been much of a drinker, but she liked a glass of wine as much as anyone else I was related to. If she’d stopped drinking…

“Oh my God.” I slammed the fridge door closed, leaving the wine where it was, chilling happily in the door. “You’re pregnant.” Ellie looked down, but her cheeks were even rosier, and she couldn’t hide the beaming smile that overtook her face and eyes. “That’s why Greg’s so ridiculously protective of you at the moment! Ellie, that’s wonderful!”

“We’re not telling people just yet,” she said, glancing up briefly, then back down at her stomach again. “It’s still so early…but we think it’ll be due in March.”

I crouched down in front of her chair, and took a hold of her hands. “That’s the most fantastic news,” I told her, honestly. “And you and Greg…”

“We’re finally back where we were when we got engaged,” she said, then corrected herself almost immediately. “No. No, it’s so much better than that. We’re different people now. Better people, I hope. Certainly happier people.”

My big sister was going to be a mum. “You’ll be wonderful parents,” I promised her, thinking of how great Greg had always been with Caroline, and how fantastic Ellie had always been at being the eldest sister.

Ellie looked up, still beaming. “I hope so. But, anyway, that’s still a way away yet. First we’ve got to fix things for her Aunty Kia, haven’t we?”

Ellie pulled a notepad from between a stack of cookery books. “Well, first of all I think we need to make a list.”

I thought of my own abortive scribblings upstairs and sighed again. “I already tried that.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have me helping you then, did you?” Ellie smacked my knee. “So, sit back down and help me fix your life.”

And so, that evening, I found myself surrounded by the bright, golden colours of my room, Ellie’s list clutched in my hand, as I tried to get ready for what Isabelle was calling our Celebration of Nathaniel. It should have been pretty straightforward – after all, Ellie and I had spent hours outlining my plan for the next twelve months: what I wanted, what I expected, what I was going to give. I’d then spent a good thirty minutes on the phone to Duncan, handing in my notice and resolving the odd outstanding issue there. I’d spoken with Dad, once he commandeered the kitchen to get on with the cooking, just as Ellie and I were finishing The Plan, and got his smile of approval for my intentions. I’d spoken with Isabelle, Therese and Mum to discuss my plans. And I’d even spent twenty minutes watching a documentary on the mystery of the crystal skulls with Greg and Caroline in the middle room, and slipped in a few words about what was going on to them in the advert break.

I’d asked all the others not to mention my plans to him, as I wanted to tell him myself. To a man, every single one of them had smiled knowingly, which was a bit irritating. Still, now that I was nearly there I was wishing that one of them, any of them, had been able to spill the beans first.

But they couldn’t. Because Edward hadn’t been there. Since he’d walked out on me the day before, Edward had not been seen by anyone. Glancing out of my window, I could see that his car still wasn’t parked on the gravel outside the front door. It was, I decided, entirely possible that he’d decided he was better off without the lot of us, and resolved to spend a couple of days getting bladdered with a bunch of strangers in the local pub. Or that he’d gone back to London. Or hopped the Eurostar for Paris, for that matter, with no intention of ever coming back to Britain.

All of which would have been kind of understandable, given everything that had happened. And any of which would make my current dilemma easier to solve – after all, my family didn’t care what I showed up to dinner in.

“Something that makes you sparkle,” Ellie had decided, and written down on my list, explaining, “You shouldn’t really need it – after all, you’re being open and honest, you’re being firm in your decisions, and you’re coming to him to make up. That should be enough. But just in case he’s feeling awkward, it’s probably worth blinding him with something special. And low cut,” she added, scribbling a few extra words on the piece of paper. Looking at it, I realised what she’d actually written was ‘wear something that will knock his socks off.’

Which was all very well, but I didn’t have anything like that. Apart from when I was raiding Therese’s wardrobe, I never had. I simply wasn’t that sort of person. I was more of a pair of jeans and heels with perhaps a shiny top except I’d get cold and have to wear a cardigan over it kind of girl. Always had been – especially in the freezing cold of Perth’s nightlife.

I sighed, and wondered if Ellie would settle for sparkly eyeliner. I had one of those, at least – even if it had come free with a magazine at the station.

I was just searching through my bags for the aforementioned make-up article, when there was a knock at my door.

“I told you she wouldn’t have anything suitable to wear,” Isabelle said, casting her eyes over my threadbare dressing gown before pushing her way into my room.

Therese, who had obviously known this for much, much longer than my grandmother, having saved me from the sad state of my wardrobe repeatedly over the last couple of weeks, merely rolled her eyes before handing me a familiar-looking dress bag and a heavy leather tote bag, then shutting the door behind her.

“Well, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it,” she said, calmly, as Isabelle sat herself down at my dressing table and started fussing with her hair. “So, my dear, who would you like to be tonight? Twenties’ flapper? Thirties’ pin-up? Forties’ siren? I think we’ve even got a lovely fifties’ prom dress in here, somewhere…”

Clutching Ellie’s list to my side, I said, quite firmly, “I’d like to be myself tonight.”

Isabelle raised her eyebrows at her sister-in-law in my mirror. As happy as I was to see them getting along again, I really wished it wasn’t my lack of fashion sense that had brought them together.

“I thought the plan was for you to woo Edward in something spectacular?” Isabelle said, turning away from the mirror to face us.

“We bumped into Ellie downstairs,” Therese explained. “She mentioned a few more details from your plan.”

Leaving the dress bag and holdall strewn across the bed, I dropped down to sit on the window seat and explained my dilemma. “So, you see, the last thing I want to show Edward is me playing dress up as something I’m not. If I’m going to convince him I’m for real this time, I have to show up tonight as myself. Warts and all.”

Isabelle was watching me appraisingly. “Maybe not warts…” she said and then, sweeping towards the door, added, “Wait here.”

While we waited for Isabelle to return, Therese began hanging out the beautiful vintage dresses she’d brought with her, hooking each coat hanger on the picture rail around the top of the room. The rich colours and fabrics glowed against the warm lemon walls, and I found myself imagining myself as the girl who could wear them, imagining all the different people I could be.

“You know,” Therese said, laying out the matching shoes below each outfit, “A little bit of dress up is nothing to be ashamed of. We all need to be someone else, sometimes.”

Sighing, I leant forward to rest my elbows on my knees, coveting the range of handbags – from jewelled clutches to sharp-edged crocodile-skin bags. “I know. But tonight…”

“You need to be yourself, I know.” Therese hooked a string of glass beads over the flapper dress. “But, you said yourself the other day, you’re not so sure who that is right now. Maybe that’s because you haven’t designed yourself, yet.”

Before I could answer, the door flew open again and Isabelle reappeared, her arms full of slippery fabrics, shoes and bags tucked under her elbows and hanging from her fingers. Behind her came my mother, then Caroline, with even more items of clothing, apparently raided from their own wardrobes. Quite what Isabelle thought I was going to do with a nine-year-old’s clothes was beyond me, but I sat patiently as they laid them all out on the bed, organised by item of clothing.

“What am I supposed to do with all of these?” I asked, staring at the vast array of silks and satins and cottons and chiffons strewn across my room.

“Well, you said that you wanted to be a new person, the ‘real you’,” Therese said, folding a tartan sweater across her arm. “And we all know, the first step to becoming somebody new is deciding what they wear.”

“But, that’s the whole point! I’ve been doing that. That’s what I’ve got to stop.” I sank back down onto the window seat. Maybe I’d just turn up for dinner in my pyjamas.

But Mum was shaking her head. “No. What you were doing before was deciding what other people wanted you to be, and wear. You were dressing for the audience.”

“Now, you have all these clothes at your disposal, while you figure out exactly who you want to be.”

I ran my eyes over the clothes again. One thing was for sure, I wasn’t a mini kilt sort of person. “And you’re all going to help?”

“We’re just here to make sure that it doesn’t look awful,” Isabelle put in, brightly. Which made me feel much better.

It took a while, and there were any number of disagreements about colour, texture and style combinations. But, eventually, I found the outfit that felt right to me – that didn’t feel like a costume – and refused to take it off.

“It’s a shame,” Therese sighed. “I could have sold that skirt for at least fifty quid.”

“I’ll pay you back,” I promised, absently, running my hands over the rose pink circle skirt, with white roses embroidered around the hem. I loved it; it flared out making my waist look tiny, and it looked perfect with Ellie’s white knit bardot top. I had one of Mum’s floaty scarves as a belt, and the top fitted snugly across my upper body, showing off my shoulders, which I knew Edward liked. Elbow-length sleeves, and the most beautiful cashmere. And, most importantly, the whole ensemble looked fab with my beloved pink heels, rescued from mouldering in the attic. Finally, I’d get to wear them. I’d grown into the person who was meant to own them, at last.

“No, no,” Therese said, not sounding very convincing. “Have it as a gift.”

Isabelle, however, was looking at me critically. “Jewellery!” she said, snapping her fingers.

“Ooh!” Caro bounced up and down on the bed with excitement. “I can fix this one!” In one small blur of movement she was out of the door.

Mum, however, was more concerned with something she’d found under a stack of skirts. “Oh, blast. I forgot to give your Dad his new apron.” She held up a long, traditionally blue and white striped apron – much more sedate than his usual kitchen attire.

“It’s to get him into the party spirit.” Mum grinned, and held up the attached party hat, and pulled out the party blowers and poppers from the front pocket. Since it was still nicer than usual, I just smiled and nodded my head in agreement as she dashed out the door to deliver it to the chef.

As Mum departed, Caro came running back in, holding a small jewellery box out towards me. “Here you go!”

I took the box and opened it, a familiar tune ringing out as the ballerina started to dance. I hadn’t seen my old jewellery box in years, even before I left Rosewood. “Where did you find it?”

“It’s your room, now.” I lifted a pair of silver and enamel earrings from the box; delicately wrought roses to match the ones on my skirt. Nathaniel had given them to me for my thirteenth birthday, when I was finally allowed to get my ears pierced.

Isabelle nodded with apparent satisfaction. “They should work. What about her neck, though?”

“There’s a matching pendant,” Caro said, holding out a slim silver chain with another rose on it.

“Not dramatic enough,” Isabelle decided, dropping it back onto the dressing table.

I left them debating that as I took a look in the mirror. I almost felt like myself again.

Therese had draped strands and strands of beads and chains over the edge of my mirror, and I ran them through my fingers, just enjoying the feel of them, until something silver and pink caught my eye. Untangling the necklace from all the others, I slipped it over my head.

The ball-bearing-sized beads alternated between silver, blush pink rose quartz and a clear crystal, and they were strung together with a thin silver ribbon that wove in and out between the beads. It sat high on my collarbone, drawing even more attention to my bare shoulders, somehow. “Does this work?”

“You know, your grandfather gave me those beads for my nineteenth birthday. Just after he sold his first novel,” Therese said. I went to take them off again, but she stopped me. “They look absolutely perfect on you.”

“Besides,” Isabelle put in. “The pink always went badly with Therese’s complexion.” I winced, but Therese was actually nodding in agreement. I wondered if they’d been at the sherry before storming my bedroom.

“Now,” Isabelle went on, standing with her hands on her hips as she looked me up and down. “What are we going to do with your hair and make-up?”

I considered. “You know what? I think I can figure that out by myself.” I checked my watch. “Besides, you all need to go and get changed if you want to be ready in time for this party.”

I heard Edward’s car pull onto the gravel as I put the finishing touches to my make-up, around fifteen minutes later. Considering my hair, I settled for just running a brush through it so it sat tidily tucked behind my ears. Isabelle was bound to complain, but it was comfortable and easy, and that was what I wanted.

If I ran, I realised, I might even be able to catch him before he made it into the house. This could all be sorted out before dinner. Then, maybe the weight that was sitting on my heart would disappear.

But by the time I made it downstairs, Edward was already moving leftover bottles of champagne into the mini-fridge, and Dad, resplendent in his new apron, wanted me to test the food, and then the others arrived, in outfits of various vintages and styles, and the most I got before dinner was a glass of not quite chilled champagne and a whispered “You look gorgeous,” from Ellie. Which, actually, was worth quite a lot.

Still, the atmosphere at the dinner table was the most relaxed it had been since I came home. Everyone seemed happy, optimistic, and genuinely pleased to be together. Which was absolutely unprecedented.

Despite some clever manoeuvring on the part of the female members of my family, Edward had managed to score a seat at the far end of the table, as far away from me as possible. From the seat beside him, Mum shrugged a very obvious apology my way, and I had to remind myself that these people were on my side.

Isabelle had, for the first time, taken the seat at the head of the table, and as we all polished off our venison sausage casserole, spitting out the juniper berries, she got to her feet, champagne flute in hand.

“I’d like to make a toast,” she said, as we all quietened down around the table. “This has been, in many ways, an astonishing summer. We’ve celebrated, and we’ve mourned. We’ve lost, but we’ve also gained. For while Nathaniel has gone, he has brought Saskia back to us, and even brought Edward fully into our little family.”

There were tears in her voice, but we all pretended not to hear them. “So, whatever the past might have held, the toast I would like to make is to the future. To all the wonderful things still to come. When the clock strikes midnight, our celebration of Nathaniel’s life will be over, but I know we’ll all keep celebrating in our hearts. And I know he would want us to move on – to live the most wonderful lives we can imagine. So, to the future!”

As I raised my glass and murmured “the future,” I realised that Edward was, finally, looking straight at me.

By the time we’d all polished off our apple crumble and sampled Dad’s Polish dessert wine, it was almost eleven o’clock. With groaning stomachs we retired to the sitting room for more digestifs and, in Therese’s case, her ‘only on special occasions’ cigar, smoked sitting beside the open window, with Isabelle coughing meaningfully every few minutes.

Ellie and Mum, however, were much more concerned with looking meaningfully at me, then glancing over at Edward. Who was, luckily for him, happily engrossed in a conversation with Caroline that appeared to be about children raised by wild animals.

That, I figured, was probably something that could wait until the next day. And, really, wasn’t it more important that I speak to Edward before Mum strained an eye muscle?

“Can I borrow you for a second?” I asked, perching myself on the arm on the sofa Edward and Caro were sitting on. Caroline rolled her eyes when Edward looked to her for permission, so he nodded and followed me out.

The collective sighs of relief from my family were audible from outside the door.

On an impulse, I led Edward through the kitchen to the utility room, where I grabbed a soft pink jacket that I assumed belonged to Ellie, and handed him his own black coat.

The Rose Garden was in pitch blackness, except for thin slivers of light breaking over the wall from the windows of the house. Wrapping my borrowed coat around my body, more for comfort than for warmth, I settled myself down on our usual bench, then waited for Edward to follow my lead.

“It’s getting darker so much earlier already,” he said, still standing. “And chillier.”

“Well, the faster you sit down, the faster we can sort this out and get back inside. We absolutely have to be back for the midnight countdown.”

Edward sat down. “They do know it isn’t actually New Year’s Eve, right?”

“It is for us,” I said with a shrug. More than that, it was a brand new start. A new year with no secrets in it. “First of September, that’s always felt more like a new year than January did. And this year, we’re all starting over, beginning tomorrow.”

Taking a deep breath, I tried to plunge into what I needed to say. This was the only part that no one else had been able to help me plan. It was all on me, now.

“And? Let me guess. You don’t want to write the memoirs. Or you don’t want to include it, if you do.”

I shook my head. “No. I want to write the memoirs, and we can include all the details that Nathaniel knew.”

Edward raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like a clever way of rewriting history.”

“No. It’s not.” I sighed. “Look, I promise I will tell you the whole story, every single detail, before we write it. But I need you to trust me that the truth is…no one knows for sure what happened that night. The chances are, it really was an accident. And I know for a fact that Nathaniel was inside the house when it happened, and saw nothing. If he were writing this book, that’s all he’d be able to say.”

“I swear to you. No stories, just facts.” I gave him a half smile. “And a healthy dose of my grandfather’s imagination, as usual.”

Edward sighed. “Okay. I’ll need to know more, but for now, okay. We’ll go ahead with the project. Was that everything you wanted?”

“Oh?” Edward settled back down on to the bench, his arms crossed over his chest. “Go on, then.”

“I spoke with Ellie this afternoon,” I began, still thinking the words through in my head as I spoke. “For hours, actually. We sorted a lot of things out.”

“I’m glad.” Edward’s voice was neutral, non-committal, and I wondered if I was ever going to be able to swing him back round to the passion we’d had just a few days before.

“I told her a lot of what you said.” I smiled ruefully. “She agreed with most of it.” I looked up for a reaction from Edward, but his face was still and calm. “We talked a lot about what I want to do in the next year. Who I want to be.”

“No.” My voice was firm as I reached out and took his hand, even if my fingers were shaking. “I’m going to be me again.”

Edward glanced up and raised an eyebrow. “And what is ‘you again’ going to do with your next twelve months?”

“Well, first I need to get back to Perth…” I started, and Edward pulled his hand away. I grabbed it back. “Because I need to give notice on my flat and tidy up some stuff at my job and pack up all my belongings and say goodbye to my friends. That sort of thing.” He didn’t look at me, but he didn’t pull away either, so I carried on.

“I spoke with Isabelle, and she’s happy for the two of us to stay here while we work on the memoirs. Ellie and Greg are, I suspect, going to be moving out soon – but don’t tell her I said that. I think Isabelle would like having someone else around.”

“Someone other than Therese.” Edward gave me a small smile, which I guessed meant he’d caught the hint about the memoirs.

“God yes. I mean, they’re getting on okay now, but that’s just today… Anyway, I think it will be a big help having them both around to help identify people and places in the notes, and put things in the right order. Especially now neither of them are hiding anything, any more.”

“When there are so many secrets, so many lies, it’s hard to believe the truth even when it’s right in front of you,” Edward said, and I knew he wasn’t just talking about Nathaniel.

“That’s why I need to tell you some truths now,” I said. “So that we can start over tomorrow without the secrets and the lies between us.”

I took a breath. “You were right, when you said I twisted the facts to tell my own story. To make things easier for me to forgive myself. But I’m facing the truth now. I know that Greg never loved me – and that I didn’t love him either, whatever I thought at the time. I know that my family aren’t perfect, any of them, but they all love me every bit as much as I love them. I know that Ellie is a better person than I’ll ever be, but I’m willing to try. And I know that I’m in love with you.”

I guess I couldn’t blame him for sounding surprised. “I didn’t mean to! I just…fell in love with you. Totally by accident.”

“Well, I’d have hated for you to do it on purpose.” Edward reached out and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “After all, it was entirely accidental on my part, too.” Which wasn’t quite an admission of love and devotion, really, I supposed, but from Edward it was quite good. I let the warm glow flood my face and leant into his shoulder.

“That I did.” He pulled me closer again. “I guess I’ll have to live with the consequences.”

“I think it’s only fitting.” I lifted my head from Edward’s shoulder to look up at him, only to find that he was already looking down at me, his eyes warm and smiling. It felt absolutely and perfectly natural to lean up and kiss him. And then do it again. And again.

“If you two have quite finished,” Ellie said with a smile. “We’re having a midnight feast on the South Lawn.”

“For some of us, anyway,” I said, meaningfully, and Ellie laughed as she walked away – a sound I’d started to fear I’d never hear again. That secret would be out in a few months, but for now it was nice to keep it with Ellie.

“I suppose we’d better go see what’s happening,” Edward murmured, his voice low and warm and full of promises I really wanted to make him live up to right now. “Before Isabelle sends Caro after us next.”

I nodded, and let him pull me to my feet. My baby sister finding me making out in the Rose Garden was not in my plan for starting my new life right.

All of a sudden, I was hit with the strangest sense of déjà vu, as if it were the day of Nathaniel’s funeral again, and Edward was comforting me. The day I saw the ghost, I realised suddenly.

Blinking, I stared over Edward’s shoulder. “Do you see that?” I asked softly, guiding Edward to turn around, very slowly. Clutching hold of my hand, he gave a very slight nod.

Together, we stared out across the Rose Garden, where Caroline’s ghost was picking bright yellow roses from the previously flowerless bushes.

Then the ghost looked up at us, cocked her transparent head to one side, and smiled, a slow, sweet smile. A benediction, perhaps.

On the South Lawn, looking out towards the woods, Mum and Therese had laid out the picnic blankets from the summer house, a patchwork of different tartans and textures. Dad placed trays of cheese, biscuits, grapes and chocolate truffles in the centre, while Isabelle carried a wobbly tray of champagne flutes out onto the grass, Greg following with two more bottles.

Edward settled onto the blanket and pulled me down in front of him, wrapping his arms around my waist as I leant back against his chest. The night had turned cooler, but there, in Edward’s arms, I felt warmer than I had all summer.

More than that, I realised, looking around me at my family. I felt home at last.

I smiled up at him, turning slightly in his arms as the honey-bricked exterior of Rosewood caught my eye. From where we were sitting, I could only see the back and east side of the house: the terrace where I’d drunk gin and tonics with Nathaniel, the Orangery, the kitchen windows… Every light in the house seemed to have been left on, and the yellow glow blazed out into the night from every window.

Nathaniel’s study window remained dark, a reminder of his light, gone from the world, and for a moment the grief welled up in me again, too deep to bear.

“Kia? For you.” Isabelle handed me a glass of champagne, and I turned back to take it with surprise.

“Do you realise, that’s the first time she’s done that all summer?” Edward whispered in my ear, as Isabelle moved on to serving the others. “Given you a drink, I mean.”

“I guess you did.” Edward kissed behind my ear. “Several things, that I can think of.”

But it wasn’t just me, I thought, glancing back up at the one dark window. Nathaniel had given me this. From his first phone call, through all his stories, the Golden Wedding, the memoirs… He’d given me my family back.