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her scheme. Eventually, after the hysteria of the Ganges incident, her parents had relented, genuinely worried that they had somehow hurt their children with their plans for a free life, picking up work here and there, seriously concerned that Maggie might be in some way mentally deranged.
    Within two weeks they were back home living the life of middle-class luxury at Maggie’s grandparents’, and six months after that they’d bought The Fleur. Neither of them could bear the thought of working in an office, and neither of them had any particular skills, so her granddad had given them the deposit and for years and years the pub – with the help of Sheila – had more or less run itself. Maggie’s gran, now long gone, had even given her the little china flower-seller to put on her dressing table. She still had it in a shoebox somewhere.
    Maggie focused on her parents.
    ‘I mean, I suppose if it’s really important I could try to rearrange it?’ she offered, feeling a pang of guilt. But the mixed feelings of terror and relief that the thought of postponing Christian gave her showed clearly on her face, and her dad shook his head firmly, putting his arm briefly around her shoulder and kissing her on the forehead.
    ‘No, love. You stick to your plans. I know how hard it is for you as it is – you don’t need us messing you around. Will you be all right on your own?’
    Maggie smiled at her dad and rested her head briefly on his shoulder. Over the years, especially in the last ten or so, he had gradually turned into just a normal dad, watching the footie on the big screen on a Sunday, enjoying a pint with the locals. But her mum had never really left the sixties behind. She was still as hopeless as she had always been, wafting about with a stupid everything-will-turn-out-all-right smile.
    ‘I’ll be all right, Dad,’ she reassured him, although she wasn’t sure.
    ‘You just remember Maggie, if it starts getting too much, try the mantra I gave you. You have to say it at least six times,’ her mum added, before repeating. ‘ “I am as serene and as calm as a tiny cloud in the summer sky. I am as …” ’
    ‘Bollocks,’ Sheila said, lighting up another fag. ‘You kick him where it hurts, in his wallet.’ She looked at Marion. ‘I haven’t a single punter yet today, you know.’
    Maggie didn’t see her parents exchange worried looks as they all left the pub. She was too busy worrying herself.

Chapter Four
    ‘So … um … what are your plans?’ Christian asked Maggie, as yet unable to look her directly in the eye. ‘Legally I mean? I’m only thinking of you. It’s just that I don’t think the solicitors’ fees will be worth it.’
    He stood up, feeling awkward about sitting behind the desk they had made love on more than once, and went to stand by the window. This was the part he’d dreaded and been tempted to delay for so long, but Lou had said it would be best to get it over and done with, and whatever her motives she was right. Dragging it on made it worse for everyone.
    Having to look Maggie in the face, though, having to see her pain for himself, that was hard. Now he just wanted to be as far away from her as he could be, away from this small and airless office that they used to share.
    ‘I thought, what if I just gave you a couple of grand, ten, say, for your share of the furniture, another month’s wages and we called it quits?’ He half smiled at a point just over her left shoulder, and hoped that she’d just take the money and run, that just for once she wouldn’t want to talk about it. ‘No, you’re right. Twenty. It should be twenty grand. I’ll arrange it.’
    Maggie forced herself to look at him: the kind hazel eyes she’d fallen for, the strong chin. The sweet mouth that melted her with its smile and those hands she had loved to touch her. She contracted every muscle in her body, clenched every single fibre of her being to prevent herself from flinging herself at his feet and