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days of their relationship, Amy had still been at teacher-training college, and they had spent a year apart. Jamie had compiled a tape of ‘their’ songs, which she had played endlessly, missing him so much it had hurt. Her favourite track on it had been ‘Forever Autumn’ – at the time it seemed to sum up the way she felt. How could she have known that her feelings then would be a pale shadow of the real thing – of what it was like knowing that she would never see Jamie again? The song could have been written for her, and seemed cruelly apposite now. It was all gone. Everything. The only good thing left was Josh. All the rest was dust.

      ‘Anyone home?’ There was a knock at the side door that led to the garden, and Amy pulled herself together. Her life might be over, but she still had Josh, and she had to make a go of this, for his sake.

      A tall elderly man was standing on the doorstep bearing a pot with a geranium in it and holding a plastic bag with some shopping in. She remembered him as the man she had seen pushing the wheelbarrow on the day she had come to look round.

      ‘Hello,’ said Amy, with something like relief. In the early days she had found any social interaction excruciatingly difficult, but now, having to put on a show of politeness was a welcome distraction from her misery. ‘Can I help you?’

      ‘Good morning,’ the man said. ‘I’m Harry Hartswood, your neighbour. I just popped over to see if you needed anything, and to bring you this.’ He proffered the geranium.

      ‘Thanks,’ said Amy, taking it. ‘I’m Amy Nicolson. Can I make you a cup of tea?’

      ‘That would be lovely, my dear,’ said Harry. ‘I don’t suppose you have had time to get to the shops yet. I’ve brought a few provisions.’

      ‘That is extremely kind of you,’ said Amy, touched at his thoughtfulness. ‘It’s on my “to do” list. Sorry about the mess, I’m still unpacking.’

      ‘Mummy, who is it?’ Josh flew out to see what was going on, then hid behind Amy’s legs when he realised it was a stranger.

      ‘This is Mr Hartswood,’ said Amy. ‘He lives next door.’

      ‘He’s very old,’ said Josh, peeking out from behind her.

      ‘Josh!’ Amy was scandalised, but Harry just laughed.

      ‘Yes, I am,’ he said. ‘But then, you are very young. So everyone must be old to you.’

      Josh looked at him quizzically for a minute, then shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’ve got a train set,’ he announced. ‘Would you like to see it?’

      ‘I’m sure Mr Hartswood doesn’t want to be bothered with your train set,’ began Amy, but her neighbour would hear none of it.

      ‘That sounds wonderful, Josh, I’d love to,’ he said, letting himself be led by the hand into the front room, ‘and everyone calls me Harry.’

      When Amy returned with the tea, she discovered the pair of them playing happily on the floor.

      ‘I can see you’re going to be a favoured guest,’ she said. ‘Mummy is normally too busy to play trains.’

      ‘Ah, well, that’s Mummy’s prerogative,’ said Harry. ‘And my pleasure.’

      ‘You’re very good with him,’ Amy said, watching how naturally Josh played. Josh didn’t warm to everyone, and it was rare for him to latch on to a stranger like this. ‘Do you have grandchildren?’

      ‘No.’ Harry’s smile was tinged with sadness. ‘Unfortunately, my wife and I weren’t able to have children.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ said Amy.

      ‘No need to be, my dear,’ said Harry. ‘We had a happy and full life together.’

      Amy, who had acquired an instinct for picking up on these things since Jamie’s death, asked, ‘Had?’

      ‘My wife died a few years ago,’ said Harry, a shadow passing across his face.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ said Amy again, and meant it. She felt an immediate kinship with this man, stranger though he was, and yet, even though she shared his grief, it was still hard to know what to say. ‘You must get very lonely.’

      ‘Well, sometimes,’ said Harry. ‘But I have my army reunions, and lots of friends here. And there’s a great deal of support to be found on the allotments, as I’m sure you will discover. I survive somewhat better than everyone had predicted.’

      ‘I shall have to take lessons from you in being positive,’ replied Amy. ‘Jamie, my …’ – she was going to say partner, and then paused, wondering whether Harry would approve of her unmarried status – ‘Josh’s dad died two and a half years ago, and this is a big move for me.’

      ‘Oh my dear, how very sad for you,’ sympathised Harry.

      Amy felt herself dissolve into floods of tears. She couldn’t do this. She just couldn’t. It was a dreadful mistake. There was no way she was going to manage on her own. That song was right. Her life would always be autumn now – because Jamie wasn’t there, and however much she longed for him, he never could be again.

       CHAPTER THREE

      Amy took a deep breath, and tried to get a grip. This was mortifying. Here she was blubbing in front of a total stranger. Luckily, once she and Harry had got chatting, Josh pronounced the conversation ‘Grown up, boring’, and disappeared upstairs.

      ‘Oh I am sorry.’ Harry patted Amy awkwardly on the back. ‘I didn’t mean to distress you.’

      He proffered a hankie, which Amy accepted gratefully.

      ‘You haven’t,’ said Amy. ‘I’m just being silly.’

      ‘It’s not silly at all,’ answered Harry, ‘but quite natural.’ His gentle concern brought fresh tears to Amy’s eyes, but she managed a watery smile.

      ‘I’m not usually like this,’ Amy said. ‘I think it’s just with the move and everything … I suddenly feel so alone.’

      ‘And however many friends you have, once you shut that door at night, you’re on your own.’ Harry nodded sympathetically. ‘It is very hard, but it will get better, in time.’

      ‘Will it? I keep thinking it’s going to, but then, like now, I feel I’ve gone back to square one again. I feel I’m never going to stop wanting him back.’

      ‘You probably won’t.’ Harry’s response was simple. ‘I think about my Mavis every day, but I am still alive, and although it isn’t the life we had, it is the life I have now. You’re still young, Amy, you have Josh. You have a lot to live for. Do you think Jamie would want you to be mourning him forever?’

      ‘No, definitely not,’ said Amy. ‘But I don’t know. It sounds so corny. What we had was amazing. I doubt I’ll ever find it again.’

      ‘You might not,’ said Harry. ‘But you must make it your business to learn to be happy again. You won’t ever stop missing him, but that doesn’t mean you can’t smile sometimes.’

      Amy felt her spirits lift a little. It was so wonderful to have someone who understood – so often people she knew were embarrassed and awkward and shied away from talking about how she was. Or they assumed that after all this time, she would be over it – like you got over the flu. Or, worse still, some of their so-called friends had dropped her altogether. It was as if she had some nasty disease that might be catching. There was even the faint suggestion from one or two girlfriends, to whom she had thought she was close, that somehow she was now likely to make a play for their husbands.

      They had no idea of what was really going through her head – or, more importantly, her heart. So Amy had learned to smile and hide her pain so that no one knew it was there any longer. It was a relief to talk to someone who

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