Page 91 of All Yours

Fox twisted the white fairy lights through the tinsel he’d wrapped around the headstone and turned them on. The boys stood in front holding their wreaths, smiling at the twinkling lights.

‘You can put your wreaths down on the front, boys,’ Fox said, stepping out of their way and letting them have their moment. ‘And then have your little chat.’ He moved away so that they felt a bit more privacy for whatever they wanted to say.

He always tried to keep it light when they came, suggesting the boys lay down their offerings, tell Meg about what they’d been up to, and then go. Maybe it meant more to him than it did to them, but it felt like he was honouring his wife in doing it. She was missing out on so much, sometimes Fox could hardly bear it.

Reggie stepped in front and laid his wreath first, propping it against the headstone.

‘Happy Christmas, Mummy,’ he lisped through the gaps in his teeth. ‘I made this for you.’

‘And I made this one,’ George added in his sweetest baby voice, and Fox got a lump in his throat for the second time that day.

The wreaths were slightly wonky and had a few extra surprising additions, like a boiled sweet on George’s and a straw on Reggie’s, but it was the first time they’d made something for the grave themselves. And it meant a lot to Fox that Robyn had helped them to do it, even if he couldn’t tell her that. He let the boys talk to their mummy, keen to hear what they’d tell her this year. So much had happened: George had started school. Reggie had started at River Rats, the rowing club. He wondered which bits of their lives they’d choose to tell.

‘Hope you’re having fun in heaven,’ Reggie said. ‘We’re having fun down here.’

‘Yes, we made a den, and lit a fire and toasted marshmallows on it.’ George’s eyes were wide like saucers. Fox hadn’t heard this before but could see how much the boys had enjoyed it from the wonder on their faces.

‘And Robyn is going to play with us more now that we’ve broken up from school if flipping Fiona will let us,’ Reggie said.

Fox snorted a laugh and covered it with a cough. Flipping Fiona. The boys didn’t even look round at him.

‘Because Robyn is the best person to play with,’ George added.

‘In the world,’ Reggie said, sincerely.

‘Apart from Daddy,’ George corrected his brother with a nudge.

‘Apart from Daddy,’ Reggie agreed.

‘We’ve got a secret to tell you,’ George whispered. ‘But you can’t tell any of your heaven friends.’ He glanced at his brother, and they nodded conspiratorially, and both leaned closer to the grave.

‘We love her,’ Reggie whispered.

All the air was knocked out of Fox’s lungs at once. The sweet sincerity in their voices. The fact that they loved Robyn, who had helped them to make a gift for their missing mum. Of course they did, because she was sweet and funny and kind. She played games with them, taught them to take turns and play fair. She trusted them to walk Dingbat, or scoot to school, or light a fire with her help. Robyn had helped grow their confidence by giving them responsibility, and encouraged them to try new things and new foods – rather than forcing them to eat peas.

The truth hit him then. That it wasn’t a surprise to hear them say it, because although they might have different reasons for loving her, Fox loved her too. He felt it in the way his chest ached to think about her. He loved Robyn for her gentleness, and how she listened, for her hurt and all her bravery. He loved her adventurous spirit and the way she held his hand when she spoke to him, and the softness of her lips under his. Fuck, it was worse than he’d thought. It wasn’t just that he liked Robyn. He was in full-blown, heartfelt love with her.

And he was thinking about it at his wife’s graveside. How twisted was that? He had to leave. Now.

He placed his hand lightly on the headstone.

‘Happy Christmas, Meg,’ he whispered, and then he took the boys by the hand and led them away. ‘Let’s go home.’

Traffic was heavy in town, the high street jammed with people out Christmas shopping. When the traffic lights turned red, Fox stopped to let a steady stream of pedestrians cross the road.

Robyn was amongst them, a purple woolly scarf tied around her neck, her bobble hat pulled down to her ears. She looked pale, her eyes shadowed. Maybe she’d had a bad night with Willow, or maybe she’d been up all night having mad passionate sex with the man beside her. Because Finn was loping along beside her, wearing a Santa hat and pushing Willow’s buggy.

Pushing the buggy! Like they were a little family already. Fox’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth squeaked.

They crossed in front of Fox’s car without noticing them and turned off down a side street. Fox felt as though someone had just punched him in the gut. The car behind him honked. The lights were green. He had to go, he had to move forward. In every way.

As he slowly drove home, stunned by everything he felt, Fox knew he had to move on and forget Robyn, because however much he loved her, she clearly felt nothing for him at all. And however much that hurt, it showed him one thing: that he wanted more. He wanted to love again, and be loved again. He wanted to share his life in all those tiny ways he’d been enjoying spending time with her. He was ready. He’d just been scared.

He had to move forward with his life, somehow. Because Meg was gone, and everyone else was settling down. Even if Robyn didn’t want him, perhaps there was someone out there for him. What did they say? To get over someone, you get under someone else. Maybe now was the time to put it to the test and get over Robyn Wells for good.

He pulled into the drive and let the boys free from their car seats. They ran round the side of the house to the garden and he watched them go before taking his phone from his pocket. He scrolled until he found the number he was looking for.

Fox: Would you like to go for a drink with me tonight?