She let Mable know she'd have to miss their lunch, and went back to the surgery. She unpacked and organised till six, and drove back to the Chickadee Flight. When she parked her Panda, she saw Rhys' truck in the driveway. That explained his 'See you tonight.'

When she entered the cottage, her nose filled with the smell of Indian food. She could also hear Mable's favourite Natalie Cole murmuring in the dining room.

"Viola, finally!" Nana announced, when Viola came in after washing her hands. "We were famished, but didn't want to start without you."

Rhys got up from his spot at the table. But of course, the Holyoake courtesy.

"Evening," Viola said, well aware how cold her voice was. "Are we celebrating something?"

"No, dear, it's simply Sunday. I always have one or two of my grandchildren over for dinner," Mable said with a silver laugh, and pointed at Rhys who sat down and lifted a glass of red wine to his lips.

When he drank, he tended to purse his lips. She'd forgotten that gesture of his.

"Oh, are we expecting someone else?" Viola asked, trying - and failing - to keep sarcasm out of her voice.

"You'll have to settle for me tonight," Rhys answered.

"Well, beggars can't be choosers," Viola said, and he narrowed his eyes at her. "I'll change and will be down in a minute," she said and walked to the stairs.

"What have you done?" she heard Mable ask Rhys behind her.

Viola walked upstairs before he could answer.

Once again the question of clothing arose, and Viola exhaled in irritation. She clearly wasn't expected to don an evening gown. Mable was dressed in her usual manner - elegant well-cut trousers, a white button-up, and a long charcoal cardigan. Rhys had his habitual military style jumper and dark denim on. On the other hand, she'd feel better if she dressed up. Hani used to call her outfits her 'armour.'

She internally praised herself for packing her favourite boatneck sheath dress. She loved its elegant twill of deep navy colour. She pinned her hairs up and pushed her feet in her dervish shoes she tended to wear indoors. It was a trusted look - put-together and versatile - and she felt immediately better.

Downstairs, she took a spot to Mable's left, across the table from Rhys, and he handed her a plate. He clearly couldn't wait to start eating.

"So, Rhys is telling me you ran into each other earlier today," Mable asked, plating some rice and dal.

"Yes, in the gym," Viola said.

She shook her head, refusing the platter with rice that Rhys offered her, and spooned some mutton curry on her plate.

"There was an incident in the pool," Rhys said. "Nothing serious, but it was nice to have a medical specialist to stop by. Evy's mum was grateful for the reassurance," he said to Viola, who nodded and sent a forkful of the meat into her mouth.

"I'm sure Viola was surprised to see you teach the children to swim," Mable said, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Considering your personal history."

Viola looked at the woman and then shifted her gaze onto Rhys. He ate silently, watching her.

"It was unexpected," Viola said in an even tone.

"I'm not sure if you still remember," Mable said with a chuckle, "But it is one of the many flaws of this family. We're endlessly stubborn. Doing what scares us most is the Holyoakes' favourite pursuit."

"I'm sure Viola isn't interested in hearing about my swimming classes," Rhys said in a grave tone.

'Sure' should be the man's middle name, Viola thought venomously. Instead of Patrick.

"I think it's very good that you've overcome your aquaphobia," she said and gave him a polite smile.

He didn't return it and lifted his glass to his lips again.

"Will you two stop glaring at each other already?" Mable exclaimed with a laugh. "How are you planning to co-exist in this village if you can't even sustain a civil conversation?"

"I think we're being civil, Nana," Viola said.

"Then what's this tension all about?" the woman asked and gestured between them with her elegant dry hand. "If memory serves me right, you two were warmer towards each other just before you separated."

"Perhaps, your memory is a tad hazy, it's been ten years," Viola said.

Rhys chuckled. Viola threw him a surprised look. He was chewing, and she saw the corners of his lips curl up - and then he looked up at her. His eyes were laughing - she'd forgotten these sparks that danced in his electric blue irises when he was feeling amused - and Viola dropped her eyes to her plate.

"Oh lovely, I'm being called senile now," Mable said. "Watch your tongue, Viola Holyoake. I'll send you to bed without dessert."

"I don't eat dessert," Viola quipped, and immediately regretted the remark. Engaging Mable was dangerous.

"Which explains your excellent figure," Nana said. "And your waspish disposition."

Viola heard another velvet chuckle from Rhys, and she picked up her glass and took a sip of her Merlot.

Mable sighed dramatically. "I see, I'll have to lead this conversation. How exhausting!" she said. "So, tell us about your latest project, Rhys," she said, and he glanced at her sideways. "What was it? Some sort of a suspension bridge?"

"A flood zone bridge," he answered. "On the North border of the county."

Viola had driven across that bridge on her way to Fleckney three days ago.

"They won a sustainability award," Mable said proudly. "That big ICE one."

"We didn't," he said and met Viola's eyes. "The engineering company did. We simply fulfilled the contract."

"Wouldn't you, as the construction contractor, need to work sustainably for the project to get the award as well?" she asked. "Isn't it part of the criteria?"

His eyebrows jumped up, and he made that surprised exhale noise through his nose - half-snort, half-hum - which she'd forgotten as well.

"I suppose we have," he said, his voice low.

"Well, then congratulations," Viola said, and he smiled at her.

Oh. One could almost forget the man smiled, but when he did—

They finished dinner, discussing a few old acquaintances, and then Mable rose and said she was tired. Rhys got up as well.

"You two should finish the wine," Mable said. "And please, help Viola to clean up, Rhys," she said in a pointed tone.

He nodded, and the old woman said her goodbyes and regally left the dining room.

"More wine?" Rhys asked, picking up the bottle.

"No, thank you, I think I've had quite enough," Viola said and rose as well. "It's been a long day, and I'm sure you can't wait to go to bed as well."

"I always do," he said with a chuckle and finished the wine in his glass.

They stacked the plates and carried them to the kitchen. While Viola scraped the plates, he brought the rest of the dishes.

She was drying her hands, when he said quietly, "Vi, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," she said.

"Why did you leave me?"

Her hands with the towel froze, and she slowly looked at him. He was leaning his back against the counter, his face calm, his arms crossed on his chest.

"Pardon?" she asked to gain herself a moment to gather her bearings.

"Why did you divorce me?" he asked in the same calm tone.

Her mind raced.

"Rhys, what sort of a question is this?" she asked, feeling suddenly lost.

"A normal one," he said. He didn't smile but there was no frown either.

Is he actually asking?!

"There's nothing normal about asking your ex-wife why she left you ten years ago," Viola exclaimed. She turned away from him at the pretence of hanging the towel, while trying to compose herself. "Really, only you could–" She exhaled and faced him again. "That is an odd question to ask, Rhys."

His lips twitched, and he shook his head lightly.

"Ever the strict tone," he said, and threw her a look from under a raised eyebrow. Viola was almost ready to believe he was behaving so oddly because he was drunk - except she knew he'd need to drink three of these wine bottles to get even slightly squiffy. "I am asking," he said softly. "I'm not being difficult. I look at you now, and–"

"Do you mean to say–" She gawked at him. "Have you never understood why?" she said in disbelief.

He shook his head, this time firmly, and gave her a questioning look.

"Oh dear," she said, feeling almost amused now. "That's– unexpected. So, what? For ten years you simply– never questioned it?"

"I have questioned it, but I had no one to ask," he said.

He's definitely hiding a small smile. What's happening?!

"I'll have that wine now," she said, and he chuckled.

She stretched her hand with her glass to him, and he poured the rest of wine in it, leaving just a bit at the bottom. His glass was already in the dishwasher, and he simply toppled the last of the wine in his mouth. Viola cringed - and he chuckled. He remembers how much such lack of manners annoys you, Viola.

"It's either that, or we share your glass," he said.

Viola took a sip - and then something pushed her to offer him the glass. He looked momentarily surprised, and then picked it up from her hand and lifted it to his lips.

"I left you because I thought it would be best for both of us," she said. "Mostly for me, to be honest. I was– wildly unhappy."

"Why?"

He passed the glass back to her, and she looked down at the half-sip left on its bottom.

"I honestly don't know how to explain it to you," Viola said. She sighed and finished the wine. "I needed to grow up, to be on my own. To build my career. And I couldn't if I stayed with you." She looked up and saw he was listening attentively. "After your parents passed away, I was there for you. Because you needed me. But after two years, I just had... nothing left to give. And I felt–" She paused and twirled the glass in her hands. "It was unfair to me to stay with you at the expense of my own happiness."

"You'd never said anything before," he said quietly. "You just upped and left one day."

Viola gave out a humourless laugh. "I was twenty five, Rhys. It's not the most emotionally mature age," she said. "I was unhappy, and– heartbroken. Lonely. We hardly talked, we had nothing in common. I felt we lived like flatmates then, that there was no real connection left between us. I would've handled it better these days," she joked.

He chuckled. "Good to know."

Viola put the glass in the dishwasher. The strange intimacy of the conversation they'd just shared was sudden - and acutely uncomfortable. She felt relieved when he said his goodbyes and left. She went upstairs before the entrance door banged closing behind him.