He turned back to look at her, from the edge of the car park about a hundred yards from where she sat. But she was still staring impassively out at the trees, and he couldn't see her face clearly.

Strangely, he slept that afternoon, and awoke feeling more refreshed than he had done for a while, although reality slapped him across the cheek before he'd even sat up in the bed. He may have experienced some relief from his confession he couldn't imagine why else he'd slept but he hadn't fixed anything. He'd still done it. He'd still done all of it.

When she came into the bedroom they'd been bizarrely sharing, Helen slapped him hard across the other cheek. 'She's told me everything.'

'I thought she would.'

'Well, she has. You bastard.'

He felt more comfortable with anger. 'I'm sorry, Helen. I'm really sorry.'

'Doesn't fix much, does it, that?'

'I know. But I do want to fix it. I want to stay. I want to make it up to her.'

'She thinks it's because she's lost her leg that you want to stay. You know that, don't you?'

'But it isn't.'

Helen squared up to him, and looked long and sharp into his eyes. 'Good. It better bloody not be. I'll skin you.'

'What did you tell her?'

'You don't know my daughter very well if you think she listens to me.'

'You know she listens to you. What did you tell her?'

'I told her you've been a total shit. I told her I wouldn't blame her if she told you to piss off permanently and meant it.' She narrowed her eyes at him. 'Then I told her that, for what it's worth, I've watched you with her, these last days. Watched you sitting with her, watched you touch her, watched you look at her. And that I don't think your wanting to stay with her has anything at all to do with the damn leg.'

Susannah Susannah knew her happy ending wasn't going to happen. She knew before he called. She'd been so afraid he'd just send a letter, or do it over the phone. But, of course, he wouldn't do that. He was Rob. He did call to ask her to meet him. They met on the Embankment, about half a mile away from where he'd fastened the locket around her neck on her eighteenth birthday. As she walked, she realized that, for the rest of her life, this stretch of river would remind her of him. It was an inappropriately glorious day hot and sunny, the blue sky dusted with white clouds.

Even though she knew, when she saw him, hope betrayed her, leaping in her stomach. He hugged her to him, so hard she couldn't breathe for a moment, and so hard he killed the hope. When he pulled back, she knew again what he'd come to say.

He'd lost some weight. His cheeks looked hollow, and he was pale, for Rob. He looked tired, too. He hadn't shaved for a while, and his stubble was flecked with grey. It made her sad. She wanted to save him from having to say it, knowing that it cost him almost as dearly to articulate it as it did her to hear it.

'This isn't going to happen, is it you and me?'

He shook his head, and she bowed hers.

When he spoke, his voice was small. 'I can't leave her.' He shook his head, as though that wasn't quite right. 'I don't want to leave her. I won't do it.'

Which was it?

'I know.'

It was all of them. She understood. She was just fighting herself. Can't was too passive. He was being honest. Wouldn't. Didn't want to.

He couldn't. They couldn't. She'd known.

She forced herself to meet his eyes. They were full of tears, and even in that horrible, wretched moment she drew a minuscule crumb of comfort from knowing that it hurt him this much.

And at the same time, she wanted to help. 'I know. I know. It's okay, Rob. It's okay. I know because I know you, and I know that it couldn't ever be right. If you were the kind of man who could do this, I wouldn't love you the way I do. The way I think I always will.'

'All of that, all of what you just said that's true of you, too, you know.'

Was it? It didn't used to be. But she was different now. She knew he was right. She could beg, she could cry. She might be able to persuade him now, in this moment, when his love for her was this strong, when the feelings they had were this intense.

Once, she'd have done just that. Used every weapon in her arsenal. Sung her siren song at the top of her lungs. Not now. She saw now, so clearly, that it would be another kind of settling. He wasn't free to be hers. It could never be right.

'We've got to let each other go.'

This had to be a clean break, she knew. For ever, for good. It was hard to conceive of not seeing him again. Beyond the limits of physical pain to even imagine it.

He put his arms around her again. 'I'll never be sorry, Susie, that it happened. I hope you won't be.'

How could they be?

'I'll love you for ever.'

'And I'll love you.'

There was much more, they both knew. He'd love Helena, and she'd love ... she'd love someone ... someone who was free. Someone who'd love her back with everything he had.

But it was too soon for all that. It was a lurking shadow at this moment. This feeling the one they had now, this minute would never go away.

And so, there was nothing more to say. Nothing more to do. Anything else would prolong the inevitable, draw out the pain too much. Rob kissed her once more his dry, soft lips quickly on hers and then he stood back from her, his arms by his sides.

It took strength she didn't know she had to turn, walk away, and not look back.

Epilogue.

When Susannah didn't answer a ringing phone or a text marked urgent for two straight days, Amelia drove round to the flat and knocked on the door until she got a response. She was more shocked than she expected to be when Susannah finally answered and she'd known it wouldn't be good. Her friend was pale and gaunt, and there were dark hollows beneath her eyes. Her hair was greasy and limp on her shoulders, and she was wearing jogging bottoms and a T-shirt, with a blanket from the sofa one they'd bought at Ikea a few months ago around her shoulders.

Susannah let herself be held in the doorway for a moment, and then guided inside on to the sofa. The flat was weirdly spotless and tidy as though it, too, was waiting, ready for something.

'Why didn't you tell me?'

Susannah shrugged. 'I was ashamed, I think.'

'That's ridiculous.'

'You were so cross with me, Meels.'

'Yes, I was cross. But I'm still your best friend, you daft bugger. Do you think I wouldn't have come straight round, cross or not?'

'You couldn't have done anything.'

'I could have been here.'

Susannah smiled. 'You're here now.'

They sat down on the sofa, each curled into a different corner, just looking at each other. After a moment, Susannah started to cry. For the longest time, she cried, and Amelia said nothing, just watched her. She took her friend's hand, and held it as they sat there. She fumbled in a pocket for a tissue and passed it to her. She didn't try and stop her sobs, she didn't offer platitudes, and they didn't speak. She just went through it with her, as Susannah had been through things different things with her.

Susannah cried like she had never cried before. Cried for herself, for Douglas, and for the kids that weren't hers. Cried for Rob and for Helena. Cried for the mess they'd made of it all. For the babies that had never been hers and Sean's, hers and Rob's. And for the babies that might never be. Cried until she couldn't cry any more.

And then, at last, a calm descended a calm Susannah hadn't felt in so many days.

'Are we going to talk about it?' Amelia asked at last.

She shook her head. 'Nothing to say. It's done. We're done.'

'For good?'

She nodded. 'For good.' And knew that it was true.

All those dreams were over. She was awake again, for the first time in years. There would need to be new dreams. Not just yet, but soon.

'Did I tell you this thing I read recently? That the cracks in your heart are there so that the light can shine through?'

'Bugger off.' Susannah laughed, in spite of herself.

Amelia pulled open the capacious handbag motherhood seemed to require and pulled out a half-bottle of Moet et Chandon champagne.

'What's that for?' It was staggeringly inappropriate and utterly Amelia.

'It's for us, though I think you should probably have a piece of toast before you drink any ... looks like you haven't eaten anything in a while, and I don't want you falling down on me.'

'What are we drinking to?' Susannah knew it was pointless to argue. She padded to the kitchen cabinet and took down two glasses. 'Haven't got any champagne flutes, I'm afraid. Will these do?' She handed Amelia two stemless wine glasses.

Amelia was pulling off the foil, and untwisting the cork. 'They'll have to. We've drunk it out of worse ... Remember those tooth mugs in Paris that time?'

'Yeah. So ... what are we drinking to?'

Amelia was pouring. The bubbles fizzed up and over the top of the first glass, pooling on the coffee table. She picked it up and dried it on her leg before she handed it to Susannah and filled the second glass.

Then she clinked hers against Susannah's. 'To life, Susannah. Your life. Mine. The future.'

Amelia took a big gulp, but Susannah didn't drink.

'I'm cancer free.' She made inverted commas in the air. 'Just found out.'

Susannah's face crumpled again, although there were no tears left. The relief hit her like a heavy blow. 'Oh, thank God. Oh, Amelia.' She threw her arms around her friend, sending champagne flying over both of them, and the sofa. 'I'm sorry I've been so up my own bum, I'd forgotten. When did you find out?'

'You've absolutely been up your own bum, but we all get that way. I can live with that, so long as you come out eventually. Besides, did you hear me? Cancer free, baby!' She punched the air triumphantly. 'Who the hell cares about anything else today?'

Susannah kissed her on the cheek. 'Congratulations. I'm so, so happy for you. I'm so happy for me.' She was. Life without Amelia was something she was not strong enough to contemplate. 'I'm gonna miss those sessions on the oncology ward, but I'll cope.'

'Phooey. We can still have the sessions. Just maybe we'll have them in the Porchester Spa, or the fifth floor of Harvey Nicks, or ... anywhere bloody else but that hospital.'

The two women hugged again.

'I mean, there's that five-year rule, before you can really exhale, but right now, I'm clear, and he doesn't think there's any reason to suppose I won't stay this way. And I'm going to get my hair back ...'

Susannah saw that Amelia's eyes were full of tears. 'You've been so brave. Have I told you that?'

'Yes, I have. Yes, you have. Over and over. And I'm so grateful for that. I did it for you, you know?' She winked at Susannah. 'Knew you couldn't cope if I wasn't ...'

Susannah laughed. She was right, of course.

'And you're going to be brave now, too, aren't you?'

Susannah stared into the contents of her glass.

Amelia nudged her knee with her own. 'And it isn't going to be easy. I know that. I'm not making light of it, Susannah, honestly I'm not. I know what Rob meant to you. At least, I think I do. But look at you. It's all there.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean you're young, and you're healthy. That's something people say, isn't it? But you have no idea how important that is nothing else is as important. You've got this great flat. You're solvent, and employed and still, frankly, kind of foxy. Not today, obviously. Today you look rough as hell, and I suspect that you may smell.' She looked her up and down appraisingly. 'But it's nothing some kip, a hot shower and a bit of lippy can't fix.'

'You make it sound easy.'

'Don't mean to. I know it's bloody hard. I know what it's all meant. But you've done the hardest stuff. You left Doug. You've realized what you want from life. And you've lost Rob again. You survived that once, and you can survive it again. But this time ...'

'This time?'

'This time, no settling. You deserve it all. Have it all, Susannah. You've got to promise me that.'

Susannah didn't say anything.

Amelia leant her whole body into her. 'Promise?'

And this time, when she looked at her friend's face, and raised her glass, she promised.

Acknowledgements.