The two of them were out in the farmyard again. Obviously there had been shouting. Parsley was nowhere to be seen. Lennox was standing with his hands outstretched in a gesture of supplication. Kate was red in the face, her beautiful blond curls bouncing everywhere. Nina didn’t feel she could drive through them, so she halted the van and got out.

“What’s this?” Kate was screaming, gesticulating toward the van. “Did you buy it for your mistress? Who you’ve installed in MY FUCKING BARN.”

Ah, thought Nina. What was meant to be the calm and organized settling of things had obviously escalated unexpectedly.

“What the hell?” screamed Kate as Nina approached. “Who the hell are you? I thought you were a mouse. A quiet little mouse who doesn’t cause any trouble, not someone who moves in on other people’s husbands!”

Nina stood her ground. “I thought you were getting a divorce.”

Kate sniffed. “Well, he’s impossible. You must have seen it. He has absolutely no soul. No poetry. How could you bear it?”

She walked slowly around to the back of the van, snorting as she saw what was written on the side.

“Little Shop of Happy-Ever-After! Ha ha ha. Very fricking funny. There aren’t very bloody many of those.”

Nina bit her lip. She didn’t want to admit that she thought Kate might well be right.

Kate moved on, walking through the farmyard as if she owned it. Nina didn’t want to ask her whether she actually did. Lennox was standing stock-still, watching fearfully.

“So what do you do, just drive around looking for vulnerable marriages?”

“Stop it, Kate.” Lennox’s voice was curt.

“Why? I’m entitled to ask a few questions, aren’t I? Though I know you’d much rather I vanished forever and lived in a hole in the ground and never bothered you again.”

“Kate, we’ve been through this.” His voice was weary. “This is my family farm. It’s my birthright.”

“It’s all you’ve ever done, blah blah blah. Yes. Which is why you’re such a boring miserable old bastard who can’t take a vacation or sit through a play or enjoy a night in a restaurant or do anything even remotely fun, ever.”

“I’m just not that kind of person.”

“How would you even know, stuck here all the time? Oh, obviously with company. Seriously, Lennox, you couldn’t even be bothered to go half a mile from your own front door? I never had you down as lazy.”

“Don’t talk about her like that.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “I think that calculating madam can look after herself.”

“ENOUGH.”

Lennox strode forward, furious. Kate smiled back. She obviously knew exactly how to push his buttons, Nina thought. She was so beautiful and lovely and talented, so confident—all the attributes Nina longed for, everything she had always envied in others—and yet here she was, screaming and yelling in pained fury. It was truly strange.

Kate stepped right up to Nina.

“Let’s have a look at your little hobby, shall we? It’s all right for her to have a little hobby, I see, Lennox. It was just my daubings you didn’t like.”

“No,” said Lennox. “It’s that you wouldn’t stick with anything. One day it was ceramics, then it was painting, then it was pottery, then it was interior design. You never followed anything through.”

“That’s because I didn’t have any support at home. You were out all bloody hours, leaving me stranded here.”

Lennox looked sad. “You used to dream of living here,” he said quietly.

“Yes, shows what an idiot I was.”

Kate opened the door of the van. Nina stood by and let her. She didn’t want to get in front of anyone in a mood like this.

Kate stepped in and saw the soft gray walls, the lovely displays, the chandelier. She paused suddenly and turned back, looking inquiringly at Nina.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh. This is . . .” She ran her hands along the shelves. “This is lovely.”

The way she touched the books, Nina could tell she was a reader. She could always spot them, even the furious ones.

“Oh,” she said again. “You run all this yourself?”

“I have some help,” shrugged Nina quietly. But Kate had stopped just next to the little cash box. Her mouth had fallen open.

Nina peered into the van to see what she was looking at.

“I haven’t . . . ,” Kate started, and then stopped again. “I haven’t seen that for years.”

It was the last, very sticky copy of Up on the Rooftops. Kate’s face softened, and suddenly Nina could see the child she must have been: pretty, petted, spoiled. She reached out a hand.

“May I?” she said, and Nina nodded.

“This is exactly the edition I had,” Kate breathed, carefully turning the pages.

“Yes, I was lucky to find them,” said Nina. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Oh! Here’s where the pigeon loses his leg and they make him a new one out of a lollipop stick.”

Nina smiled.

“Here’s the whispering gallery.”

“That always terrified me, that bit.”

Kate nodded. “God, yes. And Galleon’s Reach . . .”

“Every time I read it, I didn’t think they’d make it.”

Kate held the book. “Can . . . can I . . .”

“That’s my last one,” said Nina. “I can’t part with it, I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” said Kate. “Oh.”

“I kind of share it with . . . I share it with one of my other customers.”

“But I want it,” said Kate, pouting prettily.

Nina looked at her. She was obviously used to getting what she wanted. Always.

“You can’t have it,” she said gently. “It belongs to somebody else.”

They looked at each other for a long time.

“Oh God,” said Kate, sinking into one of the bean bags. “I am SO SICK of all this. So sick of it.”

Nina nodded. “I understand. I really do. What’s the sticking point?”

Kate sighed. “My lawyer said to push for the whole farm. Then we’d come to a settlement in the middle.”

“Do you really want a farm?”

“Fuck no, what would I do with it? But he just keeps saying no, you can’t have the farm. No discussion. So fricking stubborn.”