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Thursday was a rare hot day. I stopped off at the supermarket on the way home, deciding it was the perfect day for a barbecue. Along with the veggie sausages and burgers, I picked up a bottle of Pimm’s and some lemonade, along with the wine Emma had asked me to get.

The sun was still high in the sky when I set up the barbecue. While it was warming up, I poured Pimm’s and lemonade into a jug and fixed myself a glass. Emma had some work to finish off so she sat at the kitchen table on her laptop, the kids still in their rooms, while I prepared the food, cooking the first batch of burgers and sausages.

‘It’s like being back home,’ came a voice from the next garden.

I went over to the fence. Fiona was lying on a sun lounger wearing a bikini. A very small bikini that showed off her lean body. Her skin shone with sunscreen and she was wearing big retro sunglasses. She had, I noticed, a tattoo on her left thigh. An ornate ‘M’, encircled with barbed wire and flowers. I looked away quickly in case she thought I was staring at her long legs, though I realised I’d already been looking long enough for my glance to be described as lingering.

‘Want me to chuck a few prawns on it?’ I asked.

‘That would be ripper, mate.’

I laughed and she laid a hand on her bare belly, fingers slightly spread. ‘The smell is making my stomach rumble.’

I said it without thinking: ‘Why don’t you join us? I have to warn you, it’s all veggie stuff, but there’s plenty if you want to come over.’

I told myself this was the neighbourly thing to do, and that, also, I had asked her because I wanted to see how she and Rose interacted. The depressing truth, which I wouldn’t admit to myself until later, was that I knew if there was a fifth person there Emma and I wouldn’t be able to argue. There was still tension between us following the row the other night.

‘You sure?’

‘Absolutely. I know Rose will love it if you join us.’

She wriggled into a sitting position. Now I had a full view of her cleavage. I made myself look away.

‘I think she might have seen enough of me today,’ Fiona said.

So have I.

‘I don’t know, I think she’d move in with you if she could.’

‘That’s sweet. But she talks about you loads. “My dad this, my dad that.” She’s definitely a daddy’s girl.’

‘Yeah. That’s because I’m the one who never says no to her. Emma is— Shit!’ Something was burning. I rushed back over to the barbecue. Luckily it was just a charred sausage.

‘I’m going to have a shower and put some clothes on,’ Fiona called from over the fence. ‘If you still want to have me.’

‘I do. I mean, you’d be very welcome.’

I was sure I was flushing again. I poured myself another glass of Pimm’s, spilling it down my T-shirt, soaking myself.

‘Wet T-shirt competition later?’ Fiona said. Then she walked away, laughing.

Two hours later, the table was piled high with empty plates and leftover food. Before coming over Fiona had changed into a simple summer dress, pale blue and white, and her bare legs were hidden beneath the table. Dylan sat to my left, clutching his belly. Emma sat on my other side. She hadn’t eaten or drunk much but had been on good form, not showing any sign that she was worried about Fiona taking over her role as Rose’s companion and protector. In fact, she was chatting happily with Fiona, and telling her about some of her more eccentric colleagues, like the guy who insisted on sampling all the dog kibble they sold.

‘He always says, “It’s just meat and biscuit. You’d eat it if there was an apocalypse.”’

‘What did you two do today?’ I asked Rose, looking from her to Fiona then back again.

‘Stayed in and played chess,’ she replied.

I had been delighted when Rose had first told me that Fiona was coaching her at chess. I had taught both the kids when they were younger, but neither of them wanted to play these days.

‘Did Rose tell you that I won my school’s chess tournament when I was eleven?’ I said.

‘Fiona doesn’t care about ancient history,’ Rose said.

‘Hey!’

But it made everyone laugh, except Dylan, who was still clutching his belly. I’d noticed him sneaking a few looks at Fiona, who was almost glowing after her sunbathing session. Every now and then something would remind me that he was far from a child – that he was a young man who’d been on dates and who no doubt watched all sorts of horrible stuff on his phone. Emma had made me talk to him about how porn was not a realistic depiction of sex, the importance of consent, etc. It had been a painful conversation for both of us, and I’d been relieved when he’d asked me to stop. They drill all this stuff into us at school .

So yeah, he was a teenager, fizzing with hormones, but it was still uncomfortable to see the way he looked at Fiona, who was old enough to be his mother.

‘Can I go to my room?’ he asked.

‘Good idea,’ I said.

‘Are you not feeling well?’ Emma asked. She leaned over to lay her palm on his forehead. ‘Were you out in the sun today? I hope you put plenty of sunscreen on. And drank enough water.’

‘I just ate too much. Or maybe the burgers were undercooked.’

‘I thought they were perfect,’ Fiona said, and I was surprised to see Dylan’s lip curl. He muttered something under his breath.

‘You’re not too invalided to help carry some plates in,’ I said, standing up. ‘Come on.’

I handed him a couple of plates and grabbed some myself, then followed him through the patio doors into the kitchen.

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ I asked him.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

‘You were muttering under your breath at Fiona. You shouldn’t be rude to her.’ And you shouldn’t stare at her either , I wanted to say.

‘Why, because she gives you free babysitting?’

It was rare for Dylan to be grumpy like this. Recently, anyway. There’d been times at our old house when his moods had been black, but I had always believed that was because of the atmosphere in the house at that time. Since coming here, he’d seemed a lot happier.

‘Do you have an issue with Fiona?’ I asked.

‘Huh? No, of course not. I just ...’

‘Just what?’

‘I dunno.’

I sighed. I wasn’t going to get anything out of him. ‘All right, I’ll talk to you later,’ I said. I grabbed the dessert, a shop-bought lemon tart, from the fridge and carried it out with me.

On my way back to the garden I swayed a little and realised I was tipsy. I’d lost track of how many times I’d refilled my glass from the jug of Pimm’s, although I was the only one drinking it. When I got back to the table I saw that my glass was full again and the jug was more than half empty.

I set the dessert down and addressed Fiona. ‘Want some?’

‘I’m not sure. Does it have any nuts in it?’

‘Oh. Let me check the box.’ I went back and fetched the box from the kitchen. ‘Sorry. Not suitable for persons with an allergy to nuts because of manufacturing methods .’

‘Damn. Oh well.’

‘You’re allergic too?’ Rose said to her.

‘Uh-huh. I shouldn’t have any more anyway. I’m watching my weight. I want to still look good in my bikini.’

She met my eye. I had been going to ask what Rose had meant when she’d said ‘too’ – who else was allergic to nuts? – but I’m ashamed to admit the bikini comment distracted me.

‘Emma told me you got made redundant during the pandemic,’ I said, hurriedly changing the subject. ‘That must have been hard.’

‘It was a relief, actually. My boss was a massive dick.’

‘Seems to be a common trait among bosses.’

‘Not you, though, I bet.’

‘He’s way too soft on his staff,’ Emma said. ‘He hires them according to their taste in music rather than how reliable they are.’

‘It’s a record shop. They need to have some kind of good taste in music – don’t you agree, Fiona?’

She put her hands up. ‘Don’t get me involved. You know I’m completely ignorant about music.’

‘I’ll make you a playlist,’ I found myself saying. ‘If you like.’

‘Educate me, you mean?’

‘Please don’t do that, Dad,’ said Rose. ‘It’s so cringe.’

I turned to see Emma both rolling her eyes and shaking her head at me. The double whammy of marital disgust. ‘I’m going inside to check on Dylan and then I have some work to finish off. Rose, I don’t want you staying out after dark. I know it’s the school holidays, but you still have a bedtime.’ She turned to me. ‘Can I leave you to clear up?’

‘Yeah, of course.’

‘Sorry to be unsociable, Fiona. I just need to get this work done.’

Fiona raised her glass. ‘Totally understood.’

Emma went inside and I turned to Rose. ‘I’ve got an idea. Shall the three of us have a little chess tournament?’

I went in to find the chess set, which was somewhere in my study. As I reached the top of the stairs, Emma came out of Dylan’s room. ‘How is he?’ I asked.

‘He’ll be fine. He ate too much, like he said. I think he might have caught the sun too. What are you doing?’

I explained that I was looking for the chess set.

‘Don’t go all “competitive dad” with Rose,’ she said. ‘You know how she gets when she loses games.’

Ever since she was a little girl, Rose had hated not winning. She had been known to throw snakes and ladders boards across the room, and had even broken a Switch controller after a frustrating game of Mario Kart.

‘I’m sure she’s better than me now anyway.’

I headed for my study and Emma said to my back, ‘Just try not to embarrass yourself with Fiona.’

‘What?’

‘Flirting with her in front of Rose.’

Heat entered my cheeks. ‘I wasn’t flirting.’

‘Come off it. You even offered to make her a flipping mixtape.’

‘A playlist.’

‘Oh yeah, that’s completely different.’ She folded her arms. ‘Don’t get me wrong – I’m pretty sure she’s not going to want to have an affair with you. I just think it’s embarrassing, and hypocritical.’

There were so many things I could have said. Ugly things about how I wouldn’t feel tempted to flirt if my own wife showed any interest in me. I could tell her she was being the hypocrite. But perhaps I knew there would be no coming back from either of those statements, so I managed to bite my tongue. After taking a deep breath, I said, ‘I have no interest in Fiona.’

‘All right. Whatever. I need to get this work done.’ She turned to go, then stopped. ‘Did you know her former partner died? A woman.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. So I don’t think you stand much of a chance with her anyway.’

‘Actually . . .’

‘What?’

I shook my head. The first time I’d met Fiona she’d told me she used to date a singer in a band. A man. So she’d had some interest in men, in the past at least. I decided to keep this information to myself.

‘I’m going to say it again: I wasn’t flirting with her. I just want to play chess with her.’

Emma shook her head. ‘Don’t let Rose stay up too late, okay?’

They both beat me: first Fiona, then Rose. They were close games, and I was rusty, but I was amazed how good Rose was.

‘Have you secretly been playing online for the last few years?’ I asked.

‘She’s a natural,’ Fiona said.

‘I think we need to get you into a club,’ I said to Rose. ‘Maybe enter some tournaments.’ I was starting to get visions of Beth in The Queen’s Gambit . Fame and fortune in the chess world. Rose dedicating her world championship victory to ‘my dad, for introducing me to the game’.

‘No.’

‘What do you mean, no ?’

‘I don’t want to join a club. It’ll be full of sad nerds.’

‘Chess is cool these days, Rose. And I think you’ve got talent. You could—’

‘I’m not interested!’

I sat back, surprised by her outburst. ‘Whoa. Okay. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be a pushy parent. If you just want to play for fun, that’s cool.’

I tried not to look too disappointed.

‘Can I go to bed?’ she asked. ‘I’m tired.’

‘Of course.’ I kissed her cheek and hugged her, which made her wrinkle her nose.

‘You smell of that stuff you’ve been drinking.’

She made her way inside, waving goodnight to Fiona, who said, ‘I should go too, but I’ll help you clear up first.’

I protested, but half-heartedly. I didn’t want to be on my own just yet. I was enjoying Fiona’s company, even though I was a little tense, trying to make sure I didn’t say or do anything that could be classed as flirting. And while Rose was around, Fiona didn’t flirt with me either, unless you counted the light teasing as Rose kicked my arse across the chessboard.

We finished clearing up and I checked the time. Just gone ten. Emma was in bed but I still wasn’t tired enough to sleep.

‘Will you join me for a final drink?’

‘I ought to get back.’

‘Go on. Just one.’

She cupped her chin in her hand and leaned across the table, looking right into my eyes. ‘All right, all right. But I hope you’re not trying to get me drunk.’

I swallowed. ‘I ... Of course not.’

She laughed and I went into the kitchen, my face burning. The Pimm’s was all gone so I fetched a chilled bottle of white wine from the fridge. It was dark now but still warm, a soft breeze drifting across the patio where we sat. I could hear grasshoppers on the lawn. The solar-powered fairy lights that Emma had strung up across the decking at the bottom of the garden had flickered on, making the space twinkle like a summer grotto.

‘Where did you learn to play?’ I asked Fiona. Lola, who had been asleep inside, had come out as if to keep an eye on me, and I reached down to scratch her ear as I spoke.

She shrugged. ‘I learned at school, then didn’t play for ages until a few years ago.’

‘Another person who was influenced by The Queen’s Gambit ?’

She gave me a blank look. Another thing she’d never heard of? ‘This is nice wine.’

‘It is. It’s Australian.’

‘All the best things are.’ She met my eye again, holding my gaze until I was forced to look away, prickling with desire and shame. An image of Fiona and me kissing had popped into my head. An image that quickly progressed past first base.

I mentally doused myself with cold water. My wife and children were asleep indoors, for God’s sake. I forced myself not to look back at Fiona and, instead, watched the lights shining at the bottom of the garden, trying to think of a subject that would pop the tension I was feeling.

It didn’t take long to think of one.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask you. Did Tommy from across the road come round to talk to you the other day?’

She frowned. ‘The guy whose son had the accident? Yeah. But I didn’t answer the door.’

‘Oh. Why not?’

‘Because I’m a woman on her own and he’s a huge bloke who looked severely pissed off. I assume the kids told you about what happened with that kid and his brother when we were walking Lola?’

‘Yeah. But only when Tommy turned up looking for someone to blame.’

She sighed. ‘I’m sorry about that. I would have spoken to you about it but I assumed they would tell you straight away. I guess they didn’t want you to stop them taking Lola out.’ A pause. ‘Did Tommy mention me ?’

‘He did. But he was trying to point the blame at Dylan.’

‘What a dickhead. It was obviously an accident. The tyre blew out, right?’

‘That’s exactly what I said, but he reckons someone must have put something down that caused the crash. A nail or something. I understand him looking for someone else to blame. It’s his way of avoiding the guilt. Unless he’s one of those people who never think they’re responsible for anything that goes wrong.’

‘You think we should all be prepared to face the consequences of our actions?’

‘Of course. Don’t you?’

Again, she held my gaze. ‘Oh, absolutely.’ She said it so seriously that I laughed, but she didn’t join in. The serious expression remained on her face and she raised her glass. ‘To facing the consequences.’

A little confused, I clinked my glass against hers.

‘So what made you move here?’ she asked.

‘Oh, it was just ... we wanted somewhere bigger. Closer to the countryside. The schools are better out here too.’

She nodded like she understood. ‘And the kids were okay about moving?’

‘Yeah. Well, they wouldn’t have liked the alternative.’

I only realised what I’d said after it was out of my mouth.

‘And what was that?’ Fiona asked, cocking her head.

It came out before I could stop it. ‘If we hadn’t moved, we probably wouldn’t all be together as a family right now. The kids would only see one of us at weekends – and let’s face it, that would probably be me, because children nearly always stay with the mum, don’t they? It’s usually the dad who moves out, even if he’s not the one who did anything wrong.’

I had never spoken to anyone about any of this, apart from the marriage counsellor. And, whether or not I was saying it because of how much I’d drunk, it felt immensely satisfying to get it out there.

Fiona sat there with her eyebrows raised. ‘You really don’t have to tell me any more.’

But I was on a roll, needing to get the words out, to tell someone.

‘Emma got involved with someone else,’ I said.

‘No way.’

‘Yeah. A neighbour, in fact. The guy who lived a few doors down. Michael. Mike .’ I realised that I wasn’t telling this story properly. ‘She didn’t sleep with him – she swears she didn’t, anyway. It was an emotional affair. God, I hate that term. Lots of intense feelings, anyway.’

Fiona waited patiently for me to go on.

‘I think that was even worse. Maybe. I mean, at least I don’t have images of her naked with him to haunt me, of the two of them in bed. But they had a “special connection”.’ I made air quotes with my fingers.

Fiona shook her head. ‘How did you find out?’

‘There was a party on our street and I saw them talking to each other. I could just tell from the way they were looking at each other. The way they kept touching each other’s arms. At one point he reached over and pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. A really intimate gesture, you know? Later, when she was in the bath, I checked her phone. She had her WhatsApp locked with an extra layer of security, and I confronted her. Asked to see her messages. That’s when she told me what had been going on.’

‘Shit. How did it feel?’

‘Like someone had put my guts in a spin dryer. Like my world had cracked apart. All those awful, overwhelming emotions ... I’m sure you’ve been through similar yourself. We’ve all had our hearts beaten up a few times, haven’t we?’

Her eyes went far away for a few moments before she nodded.

‘Then we had all the long conversations. The tears and the arguments. She said it was because I was distant, that I put all my energy into the shop and my “stupid records”, that we had become co-parents rather than friends or lovers. I was almost embarrassed when we started seeing the therapist, because it was all so unoriginal.

‘We decided it was something we could get over, but only if she broke all contact with Mike, and to do that we needed to move. So here we are.’

Fiona swirled the wine in her glass. ‘I bet you’re tempted to check her messages every now and then, aren’t you? Just to make sure she’s not still in touch with him.’

I must have looked alarmed because she said, ‘Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about what I would do. Ignore me. I guess I’m not as trusting as you.’

It hadn’t even occurred to me that Emma might still be in touch with Mike. She wouldn’t be. Would she?

‘I need to go home. My bed is calling.’ She stood up, and I stood too. The conversations about first Tommy and then Mike had well and truly killed the mood from earlier. Now I felt flat and depressed.

‘Need a hug?’

She pulled me into an embrace before I could respond. Her body was surprisingly cool to the touch but it still felt nice. I closed my eyes, and the image of Fiona and me kissing entered my head again.

I pulled away quickly, flustered, hot with self-loathing. I looked at Fiona, wondering if she’d noticed, if she could tell what I’d been picturing, half expecting to see amusement, or maybe even horror. But she looked serious.

‘You deserve better,’ she said before walking away. ‘Let’s hope Emma has learned to appreciate what she’s got.’