Warning: Episode may contain strong language, violence and sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

PREVIOUSLY…

• Ben and Emma agreed to go on a date.
• Marion doubted her marriage to Ed.
• Ben’s divorce arrangements with Rebecca faltered.
• Nick and Jasmine ordered ancestry DNA tests.
• Natalie blackmailed Julia over the secret that she isn’t Nick’s biological mother.
• Julia felt threatened by Emma’s presence in the village, knowing she’s Nick’s biological mother.

Glendale,
England

The sun blessed the village for the umpteenth day in a row, casting a soft golden light over Glendale. Emma Blake set off at a steady pace on her usual morning run. Jogging was her escape, a time to clear her head. Following her usual route, Emma headed down Riverview Lane towards Jubilee Walk, a paved pathway that snaked along the banks of the River Medway.

Rounding a corner onto the riverside path, Emma spotted a familiar figure jogging towards her. Her heart skipped a beat. It was Nick Harrington-Jones, her son, although he was oblivious of the facts. They approached each other, and Emma’s breath caught in her throat. She had kept her distance for so long and watched him from afar for the past few weeks. As they drew closer, Nick’s eyes met hers, and he gave her a friendly nod.

“Morning,” he said, his voice bright and cheerful, if not a little breathless.

“Morning,” Emma replied, her voice steady.

They passed each other, and Emma felt a pang of longing. She wanted to stop, to talk to him, to ask him a million questions, and to tell him the truth. But she kept running, her heart pounding harder for reasons unrelated to her physical exertion. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Nick continuing down the path, his stride confident and easy.

Impulsively, Emma slowed her pace, then stopped entirely. She couldn’t let this opportunity slip away. She had to know more about him to see where he was going. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and started to follow him, maintaining a safe distance to avoid detection.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Ashbourne House,
Glendale

In the morning room of Ashbourne House, Julia Harrington-Jones sat hunched over her laptop, the only sound being the soft clicking of the keys. Her expression was tense as she typed “private investigators Kent” into the Google search bar. Results populated quickly, with a range of options with varying credentials and reviews.

Julia scrolled through the listings, her eyes darting from one to the next, evaluating their qualifications and specialties. She clicked on a promising link and read through the investigator’s services and success stories.

With a deep breath and anxious thoughts, Julia punched the phone number into her phone. As it rang, she leant back in her chair. A man’s assertive voice answered the call, and instantly Julia was reassured in her decision. This was the first step towards uncovering the truth about Emma that she so desperately needed.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Village Green,
Glendale

Nick jogged through the village, weaving through the streets with familiarity. Emma stayed a few paces behind, careful to blend in with the other morning joggers and villagers out and about.

As Nick ran down Queen Victoria Street, he caught sight of his fiancée, Jasmine Atkins. She was at the red postal pillar box, posting off their completed DNA kits for analysis. Nick jogged across the road and along the pathway that cut through the village green.

Jasmine heard heavy footfall approaching from behind and turned just in time to be greeted by a sweaty, stinky bear hug from her fiancé. Nick wrapped his arms around her waist, smothering her in soft, tender kisses and wiping his sweaty face against her brown skin. Jasmine squealed and tried to repel Nick as he covered her in his sweat.

“You’re disgusting!” Jasmine said with laughter as she freed herself from Nick’s loving embrace. “Gross! Go and have a shower!”

“Only if you join me,” Nick replied with a suggestive wink.

“I think that can be arranged.” Jasmine draped her arms around Nick’s sweaty neck and kissed him on the lips. “Also, Mum has changed the time for dinner tonight.”

Nick wrapped his arms around Jasmine’s waist once more and pressed himself against her. “Earlier or later?”

“Earlier. She’s decided not to go to bingo, so she wants us around hers at six.”

Nick saluted and then planted another sweaty, sloppy kiss on Jasmine’s neck, causing her to squeal once more and break free from his grip as she ran across the village green towards their cottage with her fiancé in hot, horny pursuit.

From her vantage point across the street, Emma watched on as the loved-up couple hurried inside and slammed the door shut.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Pineview House,
Glendale

Natalie Sinclair sat cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by the remnants of her past. Her rich brown eyes scanned the contents of the small wooden box that her father, Mark, had given her for her 18^th birthday last year.

Photographs and mementos of her mother, a woman Natalie barely remembered, were scattered over the bed covers.

With a cautious touch, Natalie sifted through the contents of the box. There were photographs, faded with time but still carrying the warmth of memories long gone. Several painted rocks that they had apparently decorated together, although Natalie was too young to remember, were scattered amongst the treasures. A delicate silver necklace caught Natalie’s eye; the pendant was shaped like a crescent moon, a symbol her mother had always cherished. There were letters too, written in her mother’s elegant script, each word a bittersweet reminder of what she had lost.

But it was the letter tucked away in the back of a well-thumbed copy of “The Bridges of Madison County” that drew Natalie’s attention the most. She had stumbled upon it on Christmas Day last year when she was flicking through the pages, lost in a sadness that only Christmas could bring. The letter, hidden away in the pages, had fallen out by accident, and as Natalie scanned the words scribbled in her mother’s distinctive hand, the secrets once too dangerous to be revealed had been exposed.

Natalie unfolded the letter as her heart pounded in her chest. She had read it countless times before, memorising every word and every nuance. Yet, each time she read it, it felt like uncovering a new layer of the truth. Natalie’s breath caught in her throat as she read, her eyes scanning the page with a familiar mixture of disbelief and fury. Her mother’s words painted a picture of betrayal and deceit. At the centre of it all was Julia Harrington-Jones. Natalie’s hands trembled with rage, her eyes narrowed to slits, and she reaffirmed her pledge to destroy Julia’s life, just as she had destroyed her mother’s.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

The Store,
Glendale

Queenie Baxter sat on her usual hard stool, at her usual spot at the till, behind the dark wooden Edwardian counter of the grocery store she had run for nearly sixty-five years. The eighty-seven-year-old firecracker surveyed the delicious treats inside an opened box of Quality Street, licking her lips in anticipation. Green triangle was her favourite, and she hated the toffee penny because it always got stuck to her dentures, but today, she was feeling partial to chewy coconut in its blue wrapper. The doorbell clanged loudly, drawing Queenie’s attention away from the box of chocolates.

“Ah, here she is, the marvellous Doctor Blake,” Queenie said, offering a royal wave as Emma entered the small shop.

Emma, freshly showered after her morning run, blushed. “How are you today, Queenie?”

“Ah, you know me, Doc.” Queenie stiffened in her chair, trying to appear taller than her hunched old body would allow. “Fightin’ fit and fit for fightin’.”

Emma smiled and let out a soft chuckle. Gosh, how she loved Queenie after only knowing her for a few weeks. Emma perused the aisles of the shop, her eyes sweeping over the canned goods, treats, and small selection of freshly made sandwiches, rolls, and wraps that Queenie whipped up every morning. Emma settled on a can of spaghetti hoops, a chicken and mushroom PotNoodle and a 500-ml bottle of Dr Pepper.

“You really ain’t much of a cook, are ya?” Queenie teased as she looked from Emma to her selections placed on the counter and back again. She could still remember Emma’s first purchase: a can of Heinz baked beans, a Wispa bar, and a Heat magazine – hardly the stuff of culinary prowess.

“I try,” Emma said with a shrug, to which Queenie let out a laugh. “I’ve been seeing a bit of your godson.”

Queenie stopped entering Emma’s items into the till and looked at her. “Ben? My Benny? ‘ave ya now?” She said, stroking her chin like an oracle. How this delicious piece of gossip had passed her by beggared belief. “Who would’ve seen that comin’ after the coffee and crap debacle?”

Emma laughed at the memory of accidentally knocking Ben’s coffee all over him and then smearing bird poo into his jacket as she tried to clean it off. It really had been mortifying, and she was grateful for the second chance to impress. “He’s sweet.”

“That ’e is.” Queenie nodded in agreement. “I told ya, ‘e’s been damaged by that witch, so don’t you go breakin’ ‘is ‘eart now, y’hear?” She said, making reference to persona non grata, Ben’s soon-to-be ex-wife, Rebecca Williams.

“I won’t. I promise.”

Queenie eyed Emma suspiciously. “Good, cos if you do, I’ll poison ya PotNoodle,” she said with her infectious cackle. “Four pound fifteen, Lovie.”

“Duly noted,” Emma replied with a chuckle as she handed Queenie a £5 note in payment.

Queenie deposited the note in the till, and then her face lit up, struck by the bolt of a genius idea. “Say, you don’t fancy a bit of a girl’s night tonight, do ya, Doc?” Queenie asked, leaning forward with enthusiasm. “It’s the third Sat-dee of the month, so that means it’s bingo night in the village ‘all. Me, Pammie, and Audrey will be there. Would be good for ya to suss them out; that’s Benny’s mum and nan – me best mates.”

Emma scrunched up her face, genuinely bummed not to be able to join, as she was a dab hand at bingo. “Oh, I’d love to, but I’ve got a prior engagement.”

“Let me guess, Benny Boy?”

Emma blushed. No response was needed.

“Well, good luck to ya, girlie,” Queenie said, slapping her own thigh with disappointment.

“I’d love to come along next month,” Emma said, softening the blow.

Queenie’s eyes lit up. “Done!” she said. “We’ll save you a seat for August. You can ‘elp me wipe that smug grin off bloody Betty Worchester’s face. The smarmy cow.”

Emma smiled, and she collected the sandwich and juice. “Deal. I’ll catch you later, Queenie.”

“Okay,” Queenie replied, waving off Emma as she left the store. “Ta-ta, Lovie.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Greenview Cottage,
Glendale

Night had fallen, and the hum of conversation and clinking of silverware filled the dining room as the Atkins family gathered around the large, pine table. Ed and Marion, as patriarch and matriarch, sat at opposite ends, maintaining a polite but wary distance. Their son, Lee, and his husband, Jack, were positioned midway down one side, while their daughter, Jasmine, and her fiancé, Nick, were opposite, their chairs pulled close together in newly engaged bliss.

Marion, her eyes flicking occasionally towards Ed, tried to maintain a composed exterior. She had spent the past few weeks battling an unsettling suspicion that her husband was hiding something and had settled on the fact that Ed might be having an affair, despite no evidence to prove her theory. Marion’s mind was a swirl of doubts and half-formed theories, but for one night, she decided to keep those thoughts at bay and focus on the family.

“So, Jaz,” Marion began, forcing a smile as she spooned some mashed potatoes onto her plate. “Have you thought any more about an engagement party?”

Jaz beamed, her hand intertwining with Nick’s. “Actually, yes. Julia has said we can have it at Ashbourne House.”

“Fancy,” Ed said sarcastically with a raised brow as he spoke with a mouthful of food.

Marion shot her husband a charged look that silently told him to both not speak with a mouthful of food and to not be so dismissive and disrespectful of Nick’s family.

Jasmine ignored her father’s juvenile jab and continued. “We’re thinking in a few weeks.”

“Yeah,” Nick agreed, nodding. “Get it in while the weather is still nice.”

“Sounds perfect,” Jack said with a soft, friendly smile as he moved the peas around his plate. God, he hated peas.

“What about wedding venues?” Lee asked, his eyes flicking between his sister and Nick from across the table.

Jasmine’s face lit up. “Well, no decision on that front yet, but we’ve found this beautiful vineyard in Tuscany and—”

“Tuscany!” Ed practically choked on his roast lamb. “Bloody Tuscany!”

“Ed!” Marion snarled through gritted teeth.

Nick leaned forward in his seat and looked down the table at Ed. “My family will pay, if that’s what we decide to do.”

“Good!” Ed grumbled, his tone gruff. “Fuckin’ Tuscany!”

Marion’s nostrils flared, and her glare could’ve cut through steel.

“Oh, calm down, Grumps,” Lee said, using the pet name that he knew his father hated most while rolling his eyes. “God, you’re such a grumpy old git.”

Jasmine seized the moment to try and win her father over. “It really is stunning, Dad. It has these gorgeous views and plenty of room for everyone to stay.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Jack chimed in, his eyes lighting up in genuine interest. “We had some friends get married at one in California. The photos were stunning.”

Lee nodded but remained silent, a tightness to his expression suggested his thoughts were elsewhere. Jack’s enthusiasm seemed to flicker as he glanced at Lee, sensing the tension.

“That does sound amazing,” Marion added, her voice warm. “I’m sure it’ll be a beautiful day, wherever it is. Just let us know if there’s anything we can do to help.”

Jasmine’s smile grew even wider, and her eyes seemed to twinkle. “Thanks, Mum. We’ll definitely keep you all updated, obviously.”

Marion watched Ed closely, searching for any signs that might confirm her fears. He seemed attentive and genuinely engaged in the conversation, but Marion couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. She took a deep breath and decided to shift focus.

“Lee, how’s the bakery going?” She asked, hoping to draw her son out of his shell a bit more.

Lee looked up, his expression darkening somewhat. “Um, so-so,” he said with a shrug. “If it keeps going the way it’s going, I might have to consider selling.”

Jack looked at his husband with surprise. This was the first he had heard of it. He frowned as Lee refused to meet his stare. Jack had sensed a growing distance between them for some time; was this why? Their coffee date a few days earlier had started off well but descended into the usual strained silence, much like they were facing tonight. Jack searched Lee’s face for some sort of answer, which he failed to find.

“You didn’t say anything earlier,” Jack said, reaching out and placing a hand on Lee’s.

Lee moved his hand away, and his jaw tightened. “There wasn’t a right time. Besides, you’re always working.”

The room fell into an awkward silence. Jack looked at Lee. Lee looked at his plate. Jasmine looked at Jack, then Lee, then Jack again. Nick looked around the room. Ed looked at Marion. Marion gulped and wondered what the fuck she was going to do now.

“So,” Marion said with a wave of uncertainty as she frantically racked her brain for something – anything – to say to move the conversation along and end the awkwardness. “Anything you want to share with the family, Ed?”

Ed’s face dropped, as did Marion’s. She hadn’t meant to say it. It just came out, like projectile vomit. Her heart raced and her mouth dried up as she and her husband sat starting eye-to-eye.

“Actually, yes,” Ed said, straightening in his chair. “Seeing as we’re all here, there is something I need to tell you.”

Marion’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Fuck!

–  G L E N D A L E  –

The Mill Restaurant,
Glendale

The restaurant’s candles cast a soft hue over Ben Granger and Emma as they settled into their seats in a quiet corner, while the air was rich with the aroma of garlic and herbs.

Ben, dressed in a crisp button-down shirt that complemented his rugged and dark good looks, couldn’t help but smile as Emma scanned the menu. She looked gorgeous, her brown hair with blonde highlights cascading over her shoulders and her eyes sparkling with curiosity and a hint of nervous excitement.

“The risotto is pretty good,” Ben said, breaking the comfortable silence with what he hoped was a helpful suggestion.

Emma glanced back at him, her lips curving into a smile. “I was just looking at that. Sounds good.”

They placed their orders and exchanged casual banter about the menu and the décor. As the conversation shifted, Emma mentioned Ben’s twins, Oliver and Poppy, and his face lit up.

“They’re so cute!” Emma said with a soft chuckle as she remembered how Oliver seemed like an old man reborn into a six-year-old’s body. “Oliver is a hoot!”

“Yeah, they’re pretty amazing,” Ben agreed, unable to wipe the smile from his face. “Poppy’s shy, but once you get to know her, she’s a sweetheart.”

Emma wasn’t so sure, remembering how the young girl stuck out her tongue at her. “Six is such a fun age. What do they like to do?”

Ben chuckled, his eyes softening with affection. “Poppy loves to bake and draw. She’s a pro when it comes to cupcakes. Ollie, on the other hand, is all about sports. He’s taken a keen interest in cricket, just like his old man.”

“Do they play together?” Emma asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Oh, absolutely. We have this makeshift cricket pitch on the farm. Poppy’s usually the umpire, although she sometimes insists on batting. Ollie’s got a pretty decent bowling arm for his age.”

The mention of cricket opened up another avenue of conversation and Ben shared stories about the village cricket team, of which he was co-captain with his cousin, Tom Spencer.

“There’s something special about village cricket,” Ben mused. “It’s not just a sport; it’s a way of life. Brings the whole community together. There’s a match here tomorrow. You should come and watch.”

Emma smiled. “I think I just might.”

As their meals arrived, Ben realised that Emma had been somewhat reserved about her own past. He wanted to know more but sensed it was a delicate subject. Deciding to tread carefully, he kept the conversation light, focusing on their shared interests and the present moment.

Emma seemed to appreciate Ben’s tact. Over the course of the dinner, she opened up a bit, sharing snippets about her work and her dream to travel more. Ben listened attentively, his respect for her growing with each word.

“So, would you like to take a walk?” Ben asked as the waiter took away the empty dessert bowls. “It’s a lovely night out.”

Emma looked at him, her eyes warm. “I’d love that.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Village Hall,
Glendale

Queenie and Betty, two lifelong rivals, sat side by side in the crowded village hall, their eyes fixed on the bingo cards spread out in front of them. The atmosphere was tense as the numbers were called out by Reverend Turner from a small hand-cranked bingo machine.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Queenie’s heart skipped a beat as she realised she had all the numbers called. With a triumphant grin, she sucked in a deep exhale of breath and opened her mouth.

“BINGO!” shouted Betty, waving her winning bingo card in the air and shooting Queenie a smug side-eyed grin. “BLOODY BINGO!”

The village hall broke into rolling waves of mumbles and chatter as the gathered players awaited confirmation that Betty had won. Queenie’s mouth puckered as if she were sucking a lemon, and her glare narrowed to slits. “She cheated!”

“Congratulations, Missus Worchester,” Reverend Turner said with a flash of his dazzling smile. He checked over her bingo card and confirmed her win, hanging over a £10 voucher for The Store.

Betty fanned herself with the voucher to Queenie’s grocery store and flashed her adversary another smug grin. “Jealous?”

“Jealous? Ha!” Queenie’s cackle was loud and resolute. “I wouldn’t be caught dead bein’ jealous of the likes of you, Betty Worchester!” Queenie looked her rival up and down with a cold scowl.

Betty Worchester was, according to Queenie, “a toad of a woman.” As wide as she was tall, Betty’s dark curls, flicked with grey, were unruly at the best of times. Her beady, raven-like eyes constantly surveyed her surroundings for any untoward or gossip; she had more whiskers than teeth; and her wide frame was permanently encased in a grey coat with a mucky sheep’s wool lining, whatever the weather.

“Wot would I want that voucher anyway?” Queenie asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “I own the bloody shop!”

The corners of Betty’s mouth curled into a snarl. “You’re just too pig-headed to admit you lost, Lizzie!”

Queenie straightened, her grip tightening around her dauber. “Pig-headed? Why you gobby cow!”

With one swift movement, as quick as a flash of lightning, Queenie grabbed her walking stick and swung it at her rival. Betty, wary of Queenie’s intentions, grabbed her own walking stick at the same time, and soon the two women were locked in a lightsabre battle with their wooden walking aids. Chaos erupted in the village hall. Pamela jumped up from her seat and tried to separate the two feuding women as Reverend Turner came rushing over.

“Go, Queenie!” Audrey yelled excitedly, clapping her hands together and cheering her lifelong bestie on, despite the fact that she was also friends with Betty.

“Ladies! Stop!” Reverend Turner said, pulling the aggrieved old-age pensioners apart.

“She started it!” Queenie said, held back by Pamela as she jabbed her walking stick towards Betty once more.

Reverend Turner had had enough. He had been in Glendale for just over a year and had very quickly learned of the lifelong rivalry the two women shared. “And I’m finishing it!” he yelled, his deep outburst shocking the villagers into a stunned silence. “Out. Now. Both of you.”

Quick as a flash, Queenie turned her head towards the vicar. “Ya wot?!”

“Out,” Reverend Turner said, taking Queenie by the arm in one hand and Betty by the arm in the other as he marched them both towards the door. “You’re banned.”

“Banned?” Betty barked, looking around at the villagers silently pleading for assistance.

Queenie struggled to try and free herself. “Ya can’t do that!”

Reverend Turner was determined. “I can.”

“But… for how long?” Betty asked.

“A month.”

“A month?!” Queenie squawked, almost mimicking a parrot.

Bingo was only held on the third Saturday night of every month, so the elderly women were effectively being banned for just one night, but to them, that was a lifetime. Betty’s eyes widened as a sudden realisation dawned on her.

“But what if the hundred-pound jackpot goes off?” she asked, referencing the £20 door prize that had so far failed to be won the past five months and was now at a £100 jackpot. Betty was sure she had the winning number.

“Think of it as penance,” Reverend Turner said as he released his hold of the two women and opened the village hall door.

“Penance?” Betty felt affronted.

“You’ve been huffin’ too much of that bloody incense ya ‘ave, Vicar!” Queenie said as she was bundled through the door and out into the warm summer night air. “Bloody lost ya mind! Penance! Who do you think you are? God ‘imself or somethin’?”

Reverend Turner pushed Betty through the front door, albeit softly. In the fading light, the two adversaries glared at one another, hatred leeching from their pores.

“This is all your fault, Betty Worchester!” Queenie said, waving her walking stick in the air.

“Bloody is not!”

“Ya bloody cheated! Just like ya did back in the bakin’ contest of fifty-nine!”

“You was a sore loser back then, Lizzie Baxter, and you’re an even sorer loser now,” Betty spat back at Queenie with a look that could curdle milk as she waved the voucher about.

Queenie sucked in her gums, fire and fury burning in her eyes as she lurched towards Betty, her walking stick raised aloft, ready to deliver a swift smack.

“LADIES!” Reverend Turner bellowed, his voice echoing around the quiet village. “ENOUGH!”

Queenie and Betty froze, shrinking back like scolded schoolchildren. As Reverend Turner headed back inside the village hall and slammed the door shut, Queenie looked at Betty through slitted eyes.

“Sleep with one eye open, Betty Worchester, ya great hippo,” Queenie warned. “Cos I’m comin’ for ya!”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Jubilee Walk,
Glendale

In the warm night air, Ben and Emma walked side by side along Jubilee Walk, a paved pathway steeped in history and Victorian elegance. Constructed in honour of Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee, it hugged the gentle curve of the River Medway, on which Glendale was built.

“I’ve really enjoyed tonight,” Emma said, her words carried on the gentle breeze as the river burbled alongside them.

“Yeah, me too.” Ben agreed with a nervousness as the pair walked shoulder to shoulder, separated by mere centimetres as their footsteps echoed softly against the sandstone path. The air between them crackled with sexual tension. “I like you, Emma.”

It was a simple saying, so wholesome and pure, yet it carried so much hope and electricity. Ben hadn’t wanted to meet anyone – not for a long time yet, at least. His divorce, both long and traumatic, had yet to be finalised, but in that chance meeting a few weeks ago, Ben had identified something in Emma that seemed to bring him back to life.

Emma turned her head to look at Ben. The soft light of the Victorian streetlamps that lined Jubilee Walk framed her delicate features perfectly. “I like you too, Ben.”

Ben and Emma continued to walk in step, neither one saying a word. As they approached the mediaeval stone bridge that spanned the River Medway and linked Glendale to southern Kent, Ben’s fingers reached for Emma’s. Her heart began to pound in her chest, and she interlocked her fingers with his.

The pair slowed to a stop. In the light of the streetlamps, Ben turned and looked at Emma. He cupped her cheek, and Emma leaned into the touch, inviting Ben to proceed. With their eyes locked, the moment stretched between them, filled with unspoken promises, yearning desires, and the weight of what could be. For a brief minute, Emma paused, allowing herself time to commit every detail of the moment to memory. How the light fell on Ben’s face. The nervous yet wanting look in his grey eyes. The babble of the river. The warmth of the evening air. Emma wanted to remember every little detail.

Ben’s thumb rubbed against Emma’s soft, supple cheek. Electricity surged through his body, frying his nerve endings. Slowly, he leaned forward, and their lips met in a perfect, tender kiss. It was everything Emma had hoped for and more. She kissed Ben back, the tender nervousness of a first kiss melting away into a stronger passion.

In the pocket of his dark chinos, Ben’s phone, forever on silent, lit up with another incoming call. With vibrate turned off, it remained unnoticed before fading to black again.

Dad
Missed Call

Dad
Missed Call

Dad
Missed Call

Dad
Missed Call

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Village Green,
Glendale

With the stars above twinkling, Ed walked ahead of his family down Queen Victoria Street, his steps quick with excitement and nerves. Confusion reigned as Marion trailed behind, while Lee, Jack, Jasmine, and Nicked chatted animatedly as they walked along the worn pavement.

When Ed said there was something he wanted to say to the family, Marion braced herself for the worst. She had steeled herself for confirmation of his infidelity. She hardened her body and closed her eyes, ready for impact. It was only when she realised that he had gotten up from the dining table and was fishing through his work bag for something that she began to think she had completely misjudged the whole situation. Ed had produced a set of keys and requested that they abandon dinner and follow him.

Ed stopped in front of the former haberdashers, a small shop sandwiched between Queenie’s store and CuriosiTEAS that had been empty for nearly a decade. Marion noticed a sticker that proudly declared, “ANOTHER ONE SOLD!” splashed across a “For Sale” board.

Ed turned, a broad smile lighting up his face. “Here it is!” He fumbled with the keys for a moment before unlocking the door and pushing it open, the wooden frame creaking softly in the quiet night.

The shop’s interior was dark, but the beam of light from the flashlight on Ed’s phone cut through the shadows, revealing a spacious room with high ceilings and sturdy wooden beams.

Marion crossed her arms, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Tell me you haven’t,” she muttered.

Ed’s smile faltered for a moment, but he pressed on. “I’ve bought it!” he said proudly. “I’ve quit my job in the city, and I’m opening my own practice here, in the village.”

A fiery fury bubbled within Marion. “You’ve done what?” she snarled, her eyes boring into her husband’s. “What do you mean you’ve bought it? We can’t afford this!”

Jasmine cast her brother a concerned look that Lee caught and replied in kind. They could both sense their parents marriage was about to go nuclear.

“I took out a second mortgage,” Ed said flippantly. “Don’t worry, it’s all sorted.”

Marion struggled to think straight. The way Ed so dismissively announced he’d taken out a second mortgage almost gave her heart failure. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to slap his stupid face. She wanted to know how he’d managed it without her signature.

Jack and Nick looked at each other, an uncomfortable awkwardness in witnessing a family domestic linking the men who had, and were about to, marry into the family.

“Atkins and Williams,” Ed said, his hands moving in the shape of a rainbow as he looked around the empty shop proudly. “All my clients are coming with me and—”

Marion’s head snapped in Ed’s direction. “Atkins and Williams?”

“Yeah.” Ed nodded, unbothered by the confused expression on his wife’s face.

“Atkins and Williams?” Marion repeated, adding emphasis for her husband to pick up.

Ed didn’t. “Yes.”

With a sharp intake of breath, Marion steeled herself. “Who’s the Williams?”

Ed finally got it. He finally heard Marion; he really heard her. He gulped, knowing how she would react.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Glenbrook Farm,
Glendale

Ben pulled into the gravel driveway of Glenbrook Farm, the memory of his date with Emma still bringing a smile to his face. It had been a long time since he had felt this good, and the evening had been perfect. As he stepped out of his graphite-coloured Land Cruiser, the warm summer night air brushed against his skin, carrying the familiar scents of hay and earth. He noticed an unfamiliar car parked opposite him.

Ben walked towards the house, hearing the distant laughter of his six-year-old twins, Oliver and Poppy. He frowned and checked his watch. It was late for them to still be up. His father, Brian, had agreed to babysit, and Ben now realised that that was a mistake.

As he opened the front door, Ben was met by the sight of Brian pacing the hallway, his face lined with worry.

“There you are!” Brian exclaimed, relief and irritation mingling in his voice. “Why weren’t you answering your phone?”

A frown settled on Ben’s brow as he pulled out his phone, realising he had several missed calls. “It must’ve been on silent. What’s wrong?” He asked, panicking.

Brian didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he glanced towards the living room, his expression darkening. “See for yourself.”

Feeling a knot of anxiety form in his stomach, Ben followed his father’s eyeline to the living room. His heart sank, and his mood soured instantly. Rebecca Williams, his soon-to-be ex-wife and the mother of his children, sat on the couch with the twins. The sight of her brought back a flood of unpleasant memories.

Rebecca looked up, her eyes meeting Ben’s with a look of smug defiance. “Hello, Benny Boy,” she said with a patronising tone and smirk as she stood and brushed a strand of her blonde bob behind her ear. “It’s good to be home.”

NEXT TIME…

• Rebecca’s return continues to unsettle Ben.
• Tension mounts between Ed and Marion.
• Neha’s downward spiral continues.