‘Saturday,’ Carl said. ‘There’s a bus going from the Diamond.’

When they got to the water park Carl took a £20 note from his pocket and offered it to her. It was typical, she thought, of someone as well-mannered as Shaun Crowley to have told Carl to do this even though he knew Izzy would never take money from him.

‘Don’t be silly, pet. You give that back to your father.’

She paid the entry for the boys at the front desk and pointed them in the direction of the changing rooms and then went up to the viewing deck with her book. The glass-fronted seating area looked over the swimming pools and slides that filled the enormous metal-framed building. The place was packed with wet little bodies sloshing about and ruddy teens climbing one on top of the other and dunking each other’s heads under the water. She waited until she saw Carl and Niall emerge from the changing room in their red swimming caps and take a few tentative steps into the shallow end of the pool before she opened her book.

She pulled out the bookmark – it read, ‘My other book is War & Peace’. Brian had left it inside the book when he’d lent it to her. She knew this was supposed to be funny but she found the books he pressed upon her challenging enough and hoped he didn’t have plans to progress to Russian novels. This most recent one, The Remains of the Day, was very serious. Nobody in it seemed to have a sense of humour at all. In fact, the only funny thing about it was how the main character, a butler in a big old stately pile, was always going on about loyalty and dignity and duty when it was clear that all he really wanted was to marry the housekeeper. Or at least that’s what was becoming apparent to Izzy, because at first he had seemed so passionless – and she tried to turn this thought over in her mind a few times so that she might remember it when Brian asked her what she thought of the book. Brian always asked her what she thought of the books he gave her. And often her feelings were the same – that she enjoyed the writing but if she had been asked to describe a single significant or dramatic event she would have struggled. And yet she couldn’t put this one down and she had to keep reminding herself to look up every few pages to check on her son. On the hour a horn sounded and she watched everyone rushing to the same pool where the wave machine was starting to churn the water, and after a minute or two the boys were jounced together in the swell.

She closed the book. She tried to imagine explaining to Brian what she was about to engage in, and the silence she’d be met with, the blankness in his expression, carefully reserving judgement, waiting until she’d said what she needed to say before he’d make any comment whatsoever. Just speaking things in the light of his gaze had become her way of knowing how she truly felt. Even when she’d spouted that rubbish to him about Colette’s brazenness, painting her as some kind of scarlet woman, she’d known then in her heart that this was not really what she thought of her. And she knew now there couldn’t be anything wrong with a mother as kind and loving as Colette spending time with her child, and the righteousness Izzy felt about this unsettled her sometimes. Colette, for her part, would be in her car now, on her way, anticipating this meeting with every breath in her body. There was no question of that, no chance on earth that she would back out of this arrangement. And Izzy wanted to be equal to that determination.

At 3 p.m. she saw Niall look up at the clock and watched the two boys dutifully making their way to the changing rooms. By three thirty they were in the foyer of the Great Northern Hotel. She instructed the boys to order quickly from the children’s menu and she ordered a sandwich and a pot of tea for herself. She stared around her at the busy foyer, at the disgruntled-looking golfers in rain gear crowding the reception desk, and she was thinking this venue a very poor choice now because people from her own club often played on the hotel course. But perhaps that was a good thing; this made it precisely the kind of place you would accidentally run into someone you knew.

She sank down in her seat, hoping the wingback armchair might provide some cover for her. She turned her attention to the boys, who were in good humour, a little listless from swimming but giddy in that tired way children could be, and she thought that if the only outcome for the day was that their friendship was renewed then that was enough. And as she thought this, her resolve vanished. She began to pray for Colette not to appear.

‘Come on, Niall, eat that up,’ she said, ‘we need to get on the road.’

Izzy noticed that Carl had left some food on his plate and she thought about telling him to finish it, and then all of a sudden she was beside them, so tall, she felt her presence before she saw her. They all looked up at her at once. But Colette’s focus was on Carl, who was turning the last of his food over in his mouth, this process slowing to a halt as his eyes widened to take in the full shape of his mother. His face froze, his lips parted slightly, flecks of burger flew out with his breath.

‘Hello there,’ Colette said.

Niall beamed up at her like he’d just been surprised by an old friend. Carl finally downed his food with a hard swallow.

‘Hello there, Colette – how are you?’ Izzy said, her enthusiasm ringing false in her ears.

But Colette just looked at her. Izzy watched her try to raise a smile and that smile buckle under the weight of the effort. Her eyes pleaded with her not to be forced to participate in this conceit. ‘Can I?’ she said, holding out her hand to Carl.

Carl looked at Izzy then, and when she nodded, he slid off the sofa and walked right past his mother.

‘I’ll have him back to you in an hour,’ Colette said, and followed Carl.

Izzy watched them step into the revolving door at the hotel entrance, and disappear.

‘Is she allowed to do that?’ Niall asked.

‘Of course she is, Niall, don’t be stupid – she’s his mother. And what’s she doing except going for a walk with her son?’

‘But does his dad know?’

‘Niall, imagine if your father said that I wasn’t allowed to see you.’ But he was still staring at the revolving door, spinning empty. ‘Niall, look at me.’

He turned his face slowly to her.

‘You’re fond of Colette, aren’t you?’ she asked.

He gave a solemn nod.

‘And I know you like Carl and you want him to be able to spend time with his mother. So the best thing you can do is forget the whole thing. And please, dear God, don’t mention a word of it to your father. He’ll get all up on his high horse and the only thing that’ll happen is Colette and Carl won’t be able to see each other, not to mention the trouble it’ll cause between me and him.’

She watched his smooth little brow knit with frustration.

‘Look, no one is asking you to lie to anyone, Niall, it’s just that sometimes saying nothing is the safest thing you can do.’

She picked up her cigarettes and withdrew one from the pack.

‘What are we going to do now?’ he asked. ‘Is she going to drive Carl home?’

‘She will not – we’ll be driving Carl home. Now, do you want a dessert?’

‘Yes,’ Niall said, and with that his concerns seemed to vanish.

*  *  *

It had rained for most of the day and the grassy area where they queued for the bumper cars was sodden. The funfair was mostly closed out of season, but it sometimes opened for a few hours on the weekend, depending on the weather. None of the rides she and Carl really enjoyed – the rickety old roller coaster or the helter-skelter or the swinging boats – were open today. Even the matte-black floor of the bumper car arena was spotted with little pools from where the rain had dripped through the tarpaulin covering. A teenage boy in a baseball cap collected tickets and mopped the floor between rides.

Colette took a wodge of tissues out of her purse and wiped the water off the seat before she let Carl take his place behind the wheel. The little car was so small they were pressed right up against each other and it felt good to be close to him after so long. She couldn’t stop stealing glances at him, trying to drink in every incremental change that had happened since she’d last seen him, and commit those to memory before they were parted again. Some of the smoothness in his face had been rubbed away to reveal harder edges, a solidity to his features that hadn’t been there before. She wrapped her arm around him and held him tightly against her. They were buffeted from every direction, and the harder they were rammed, the more Carl laughed and the more determined he became in pursuing the offending vehicle. They loved funfair rides; that was a thing they shared. Shaun would never go on them. Even when they went to Disney World, he’d stayed off all of the rides and she’d accompanied the boys on every single one.

When the bumper cars stopped, she paid the teenage boy to let them go around a second time.

There was a break in the weather. Light blue patches appeared in the sky. The setting sun glinted weakly from behind the low cloud moving in over the bay. Her time with her son was running short and she had maybe ten minutes before they’d be caught in another downpour. Carl was dragging her in the direction of the amusement arcade.

‘Let’s walk back to the hotel across the beach, pet,’ she said, ‘that way we can have a proper chat.’

They picked their way over an expanse of wet black rock, holding on to each other for balance. On the beach an icy wind raced sideways at them and they had to pull their hats down over their ears.

‘Can you not drive me home?’ Carl shouted.

‘No pet, I’m afraid I can’t. But maybe soon.’ A glimmer of light squeaked through the cloud and she looked up. ‘Isn’t that beautiful? Look at that,’ she said, and threw her arms out. ‘There’s every kind of weather in that sky,’ she said. ‘Look!’ And she crouched down to his height and pointed out to sea. ‘In that corner there’s a storm brewing, and in that corner it’s raining, and over there the sun is shining. And look at that water!’ She was exultant. There was a great swell in the sea and the waves were rising up and barrelling down on the shore and each time it was like thunder roaring at them from across the sand.

But Carl was not to be distracted. ‘Why can’t you drive me home?’

‘I don’t think your daddy would like that,’ she said.

‘But if you drove me home, you could come in and talk to him.’

‘Oh, Carl, love, I wish it was that easy.’

‘But it is easy – you’re all just making it hard.’

‘Oh, you might be right about that, but I don’t think your daddy is ready for things to be easy yet. But he will be someday soon and you and I will get to spend more time together. For now it might be best if you didn’t tell your father that you saw me.’ She placed her fingers beneath his chin and tilted his face upwards. Those grey eyes staring out at her from an abundance of dark lashes – she had to catch her breath. ‘Now, don’t get me wrong, Carl, you mustn’t do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or sad, and if you want to go home and tell him first thing then you go and do that. But that might make it difficult for us to see each other again like this.’

‘But why aren’t I allowed to see you?’

‘Carl, your father loves you very much and he just wants your life to be as calm as possible and I suppose I haven’t really helped a lot with that. And maybe he’s cross with me – but he won’t be cross forever. And in the meantime you have Sheila there in the afternoon and I know she spoils you rotten. And Barry is there.’

‘Barry’s an arsehole.’

She slowed her step. She tried to summon the energy to reprimand him. ‘Why is Barry an arsehole?’ she asked.