Claire looked at me when I laughed.
She smiled.
After lunch, Tom took the children into the garden, and Claire and I sat at the kitchen table with our cups.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
“Honestly.”
“I don’t have a word for it,” I said.
“It’s too much to hold all at once.
But it’s good.
It’s — ” I stopped.
“I’ve been alone in my house for months.
Since Carol passed.
And I’d started to think that was just how it was going to be now.
The rest of it.
Just me.”
“And now?” Claire said.
I looked through the kitchen window at the garden.
Daniel was attempting a cartwheel.
Rosie was critiquing it.
Tom was pretending to referee.
“Now I have somewhere to be on a Saturday,” I said.
