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“Nah,” said Cal, thinking back to the little house. “Not rich. We did alright though.”

“Not alright enough to be upset that she’s gone.”

“It was three months ago,” Cal said.

“Yes, but you’re just finding out about it today.”

Cal sighed and put her knife down. “It’s… complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?” Syd said. She put her knife down too and turned, clutching at Cal’s arm to make her turn as well so that they were face to face. “Cal.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Syd said. “Losing your mum is a big thing. Whether you liked her or not. There’s still going to be a hole where something once was and isn’t anymore.”

Cal said nothing to this. How could Syd understand? She hadn’t been there.

“You deserve more than all this, Cal,” said Syd quietly. “You don’t see yourself as others do. You’re kind and patient. You’re—”

“I’m a drifter who doesn’t like being tied down. I’m a bull dyke that most people think is a man, and I luck out every now and again and find someone nice like you,” Cal said. “And then I promptly leave them.”

Syd shook her head. “You’re kind, patient, generous, and loving, Cal. It’s obvious that you’re running away from something. But at some point you’re going to need something torun to.”

“And you’re suggesting that’s you?”

Syd laughed again. “No, Cal. I’m not that naive. What I’m saying is, once you find that thing, and you will find it, don’t let all of this… attitude, this stereotype you have of yourself, prevent you from seeing that you do deserve a nice life.”

Cal rolled her eyes. “Fine. And, since you’re asking, no, not all my break ups are as weird as this.”

“Shut up and get those lemons sliced. We’ll be here all day,” Syd said.

So Cal went back to doing her job for her last shift, trying very hard not to think about the fact that she was going to have to go backward. That she was going to Tetherington, a place she’d sworn she’d never set foot in again.

Chapter Two

“Which one of you is going to wear the dress?” George demanded, setting down a plate of roast potatoes with rosemary.

“George!” Billy, George’s husband, slapped his wrist. “They might both want to wear a dress.”

George looked at Lucy and they both snorted.

“What?” Ash demanded.

“I rather think that they find the idea of you in a dress amusing,” said Pen, helping herself to potatoes. “Which is a fair point. Even I’ve barely seen your legs and I’m about to marry you.”

“She does have legs, doesn’t she?” Lucy asked, scooting her chair back to peer under the table.

“Of course I have legs,” Ash said. “We came over here for moral support, not to be bullied about our sartorial choices, thank you very much.”

“Friends tease friends,” said Pen, patting Ash’s arm. “It’s all a part of the process.”

Lucy felt a little spark of jealousy as she saw Pen touching her fiancée. Not that she had a crush on Pen. Well, not a real one anyway. She had, once, had a stray thought that being cuddled by Pen would be awfully nice.

But that was mostly because Pen had saved her. Sort of. It had been Pen who had given her a job and a place to stay when she’dbeen living on the streets. A new start that had resulted in Lucy now living in George and Billy’s spare room, painting in their garage, and working for the local newsagent.

A life that should be more than satisfying after one too many nights on park benches or under bridges or just shivering on the sand and waiting for the sun to come up. So every time she felt that spark of jealousy, Lucy tamped it well down and did her best to ignore it.

“I’ve had friends before,” Ash complained. “I know when I’m being teased.”