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“Can’t be helped,” said Cal, feeling a little warm at the compliment. It was a compliment, buried in there, but still.

“You off to the rehearsal then?” Rosalee asked. Cal nodded and Rosalee shook her head. “You’re a glutton for punishment, Cal Roberts, anyone ever told you that?” She sniffed again. “Still, you’ve got some stones, I’ll give you that. Just be careful.”

“Think the town might gang up on me and jump me in a dark alley?” Cal joked. But the look Rosalee gave her back told her that it wasn’t a funny one and Rosalee might even think it was true. “I’ll be fine,” she added hurriedly.

“While I’ve got you here,” Rosalee said. “See that woman over there?” She nodded toward a blonde, older woman sitting at the corner of the bar and checking her watch, obviously waiting for someone.

“Yeah, what of her?”

Rosalee scowled. “You might want to go and introduce yourself. That’s Deb Manning.”

“And?” Cal scowled back.

“And she’s a nurse. She cared for your mum at the end, spent more time at that house than you did. She deserves a bit of thanks.”

Cal’s skin prickled at the inference. She hadn’t been there for her mother. But then her mother hadn’t been there for her, so… Still, Rosalee had a fair point. She took a breath and then walked over to the corner of the bar.

“Hi, I’m Cal, Cal Roberts?”

The woman smiled and she had a pretty smile. “Cal, we meet at last. Deb Manning.”

“Rosalee said,” said Cal. She wiped her hands on the side of her trousers, not really sure what to say now. “Uh, I suppose I’m here to say thank you. Thanks for all that you did for mum.”

“No more than my job, dear, but the thanks are welcome anyway.”

Cal half-expected her to say something about her not being there, or at least to say that her mother had missed her or something guilt-laden. But she didn’t. She smiled pleasantly up at Cal until Cal wondered if there was something she was missing. Maybe she was supposed to tip the woman or… or pay some kind of bill?

Not that she had any money. “I, um, I’m cleaning out the house at the moment,” she said.

“Oh, love.” Deb put a hand on Cal’s arm and Cal suddenly liked her.

Okay, it helped that she was obviously new in town and had little or no idea about Cal’s history. But she still looked like a decent person. “I wondered if… I mean, you were obviously very important to mum, so I wondered if perhaps you’d like to come over and, I don’t know, choose something to remember her by?”

Deb’s eyes glistened with tears and she blinked them away. “That’s a lovely offer, thank you, Cal. Can I take you up on it early next week? Say Tuesday or so?”

“Of course, let me give you my number and we can set something up.”

Cal left the pub five minutes later with the feeling that for once she’d done something right. Rosalee gave her an approving nod as she left, which made her walk a little taller as she went.

THE REHEARSAL WASN’T what Cal had been expecting. Or maybe it had been but she wasn’t invited to that part. When shegot to the hall she paused for a second, remembering the smell of gym shoes and children’s parties. But when she went inside she found just a group of people sitting around a table, eating and drinking.

No one noticed her, so she stood for a moment in the doorway, watching. Lucy’s hair gleamed in the lights and she was laughing at something somebody was saying and Cal felt her chest tighten. Tighten because she looked beautiful and for the first time Cal was seeing her like others would.

And tighten because there were at least twenty people at the table and Cal was sure that a minimum of fifteen of those hated her.

Then Lucy was turning and Cal’s stomach flipped, and she was smiling and Cal’s pulse quickened, and she was getting up and Cal’s core melted. Christ, she had it bad this time.

“You made it, come on, come and sit,” Lucy said, linking her arm into Cal’s. “You look really nice.”

“So do you,” blurted out Cal, looking at Lucy’s plain cotton summer dress. Nice. Smooth. Well done there.

“Sit here between me and George and let George tell you about his afternoon,” Lucy said, pushing Cal into a seat. “Fabio, the bookshop cat, escaped and chased a French Bulldog down the High Street.”

“Fab’s got a thing about Bulldogs,” George said. “So, there I was, coffee in hand about to get started on the online orders, when from the corner of my eye I saw this woman walking past the window…”

Cal listened and laughed as George told his story and Lucy piled her plate with pasta salad and filled her a glass. And before she knew it, she was… included. It felt nice to sit there. Pen and Ash were at the head of the table and looked to be very deep in discussion about something.

“Probably about baby names,” Lucy confided.