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Priya! Okay, that all sounds amazing and I’m definitely jealous. But you’ll never guess what—it is SNOWING here. Like, actually snowing—we are going to have a full-on white Christmas, I reckon. And OBVIOUSLY I’d love you to come back for New Year! But can you afford the flights? When does term start? Because it’s way too long to come for just a few days, isn’t it? What about if I came to you? Actually, no, that wouldn’t work—I’m not sure I can get organized in time with everything going on. Argh. But I need to see you soon, definitely. Please tell me more about the surfing—and you’ve barely said anything about your job. What’s it like in comparison to here? Come on, give me details, make me even more jealous.

Mel sends that message, then pauses before recording her next.

Also, please don’t worry about me, I’m fine. It’s been weird, being back with everyone. But I really think it’s good for me. She thinks of last night, how she felt, leaving Finn on the dance floor—and has to try to make her voice as upbeat as Priya’s. I’m getting closure, and I think it’s good for me to say a proper goodbye—and it’s only three more days, anyway. Then I won’t see him ever again and the whole thing will be done. Her heart twists. Boxing Day. She’s got until Boxing Day, then it really will all be over—her time with him and his family done.

Anyway, all good! Let’s FaceTime soon, okay?

When she’s finished her tea, she creeps back upstairs, hesitating when a stair creaks under her bare foot at the same time as she hears a voice coming from one of the bedrooms. The one right at the top of the stairs—Hattie and Dylan’s bedroom. The voice is raised and stressed-sounding.

“We can talk about this later, okay? It’s way too early for this kind of conversation.”

“But, Hattie, if—”

“No, Dylan. I said we’ll talk later, okay?”

The door to the bedroom opens and Mel’s stomach lurches—she’s still standing right there, one hand on the banister. She feels a rush of guilt and embarrassment—even though she hadn’t been trying to listen in, and she’d only caught the tail end of whatever argument they’d been having.

She clears her throat. “Ah, it’s snowing. Or, at least, it’s snowed.”

Hattie purses her lips, glancing back at her bedroom door. “Has it?”

“Yep.” Her voice is a bit too high-pitched.

“Cool. Coffee?” She strides past Mel, and after a brief hesitation Mel follows her back down the stairs, feeling a bit at a loss. Hattie gets out two mugs when they reach the kitchen.

“Dylan wants kids,” Hattie says without preamble as she puts the kettle on to boil.

“Oh. Okay.”

“I don’t know if I do.”

“Oh,” Mel says again. “Well…” But, as in the pub with Kristen, she feels this is one area of life about which she is highly unequipped to offer meaningful advice.

“I know this is stupid,” Hattie says with an explosive sigh, “but we’ve never talked about it. And I know, I know, we are getting married—we should have. But we didn’t, okay?” She’s on the defensive as the kettle clicks off—and Mel figures it’s probably best to say nothing. “It all happened so fast,” Hattie continues, “and I was kind of, I don’t know, swept away.” She sweeps a hand across the air to emphasize the point. “And then he just assumed, apparently.” Her nostrils flare as she fills a cafetière.

How—how—has Mel ended up having another version of this conversation? She should direct Hattie toward Kristen, who is definitely more qualified. And can everyone just stop throwing their relationships in her face? Here they all are, talking about kids—when there’s a good chance she’s going to end up single for the rest of her life, probably not over the man who trampled all over her heart. She’s a bloody joke, an impostor. And everyone needs to stop telling her things.

“I saw how much Mum had to sacrifice for us,” Hattie says, a little calmer now. She hands Mel a mug of steaming coffee, and Mel takes it. “And, look, I know how much she loves us. But I also know how much it changed her. I saw that it was her and not him who did all the work. Logically, I know that’s an extreme example—not everyone’s fathers are shitheads.” Mel can’t help the subtle wince at the harshness of the word. Not that she has any particular love for Finn’s dad, but she knows he loved Finn, even if he went about maintaining the relationship badly. And she knows that Finn struggled with that—the need not to be like his father warring with the fact that he’s always wanted some kind of connection.

“I don’t want that,” Hattie says quietly. “I don’t want what my parents had.”

No matter how hard we try, I don’t think any parent can ever fully bring a child up without scathing them, just a little.

Oh, Susan.

Hattie’s eyes glimmer with tears, and Mel puts her coffee down so she can step toward her, lay a comforting hand on her arm. “Hattie,” she murmurs softly. “I’m sure it’ll be okay.” But the words stick in her throat, because how can she be sure? People didn’t always stick together, didn’t always work things out. Her parents were the exception, not the rule.

“What if I have to cancel the wedding?” Hattie’s voice hitches. “I love Dylan.” She swipes at a tear. “Like, I really, really love him. But if I say I might want kids just to keep him, that maybe I could change my mind—that’s lying, isn’t it? Because what if I don’t change my mind? I can’t lie to him. That’s the one thing I can’t do,” she adds, and Mel wonders if that fierceness in her voice is coming from the fact that their dad had lied to their mum, over and over.

“What does Dylan say?” Mel asks hesitantly.

Hattie makes a scathing sound that is part laugh, part sob. “He keeps saying we’ll figure it out and that we need to talk about it—but he’s expecting me to come round, I think.”

“Well, maybe you should give it a chance? Try talking a bit more?” She hates how unsure she sounds. But who is she, to be able to offer relationship advice, after what happened with Finn? And here she is, attempting to do so for the second time in twelve hours. Her stomach squirms as she thinks of Kristen, of the secret she’s hiding.

“What will Mum say if we cancel the wedding?” Hattie whispers, and Mel knows her mind has jumped ahead to the worst possible conclusion.

“One step at a time,” Mel says firmly—though Hattie doesn’t seem to be listening to her.