Rhys rang her up on Friday evening, and told her something had come up at work, and he had to postpone their dinner. As upset as she was, she felt a tinge of relief as well. She was still processing his visit during her flu and what had happened after the pub. Instead, she visited Nana on Saturday and spent the day with Clementine Popplewell, John's wife, and their four children. They had two sets of twin girls. After lunch, which in Viola's opinion was a pandemonium, but didn't seem to bother Clem or Nana in any way, the children were loaded in two prams, and Viola and Clem headed out for a walk. The younger twins fell asleep right away, while the four years old continued a mysterious conversation they'd been leading between themselves. Viola, who'd gotten the lighter pram, kept throwing looks at the freckled faces of John's younger daughters. Once they got to the park, the four years old were released into the wild, and Clem and Viola sat down on a bench, watching the girls climb a play structure and a slide.

"I admire you," Viola said and pointed at the two sleeping children. "How do you manage four of them, I can't imagine."

"I'm a twin too," Clem said, stretching her legs in front of her. "I don't think I ever expected to have to deal with one at a time."

She was one of the prettiest women Viola had ever seen in her life. There was some sort of a jovial relish in everything Clementine did: in her wide smiles, her quick light movements. She had large hazel eyes, and her short ginger hair stood around her head in charming semi-curls. One couldn't but laugh when she laughed, and listen when she spoke. She was wickedly talented, intelligent, and had a sharp, often sarcastic sense of humour. Viola, always being the quiet one, enjoyed the company of such people immensely.

"I also got lucky with John, I think," Clem said, her eyes on her older children. "He does half of all the work."

"He's a Holyoake," Viola said with a soft laugh. "They make good parents."

"It's all because of the generations of happy childhoods and supportive family relationships," Clem said. "Have you known their parents?"

Viola nodded. "They all passed away two years after we'd gotten married," she said quietly. "First, there was the car accident, with John's mother and Rhys' parents. And then their Father just... faded away. Then there was only their Aunt Cecilia left, and cancer took her too. All in two and a half years."

Clem shook her head. "That's terrible."

Viola suddenly felt a knot in her throat. It had been years, but suddenly the ache was back.

"They were lovely," she said in a scratchy voice. "So warm, so... full of life. Patrick and Ted were such Holyoakes," she said with a joyless laugh. "Dashing, with so much character, and so much presence. John looks a lot like them. There was so much love between all of them, between spouses, and towards the children and siblings. Both Pat and Ted wrote, and there were always books scattered in all their homes. They had the most fascinating debates, and there was always so much fun! All the board games, and charades, and quiz nights in The Oak and Shield! During family dinners, everyone cooked, argued, listened to music, danced. It was always so loud around them," she said, lost in her memories. "John's mother, May, was a translator from Japanese. So intelligent, so sophisticated! They had these books in silk covers, some sort of murder mysteries, and she could talk about them for hours, and you wouldn't even notice how time passed. Pat was the funny one, Rhys got his dry sense of humour from him."

"Does Rhys have a sense of humour?" Clem drew out, and they both laughed.

"Well, he used to," Viola said. "The version of him I'm familiar with is ten years old. They've all changed so much," she added. "We actually talked about it with John the other day. What a positive influence you are on him." Viola hummed as if trying to remember. "I believe, the words he used to describe himself in the past were 'overbearing,' 'bitter,' and, I think, a 'prick.'"

Clem giggled and dangled her feet in the air.

"We are the boring ones, though," she said. "It's Fiona and Will who have a beautiful romantic story."

"I've heard of her ex," Viola said and cringed. "What a nasty piece of work."

Clem nodded. "She's the brave one. You'd think having a terrible ex would discourage one from trying again."

"Speaking from experience, aren't you?" Viola asked.

Clem snorted. "John warned me that you see and guess everything."

Clem rocked sideways and bumped her shoulder to Viola's. Viola wasn't fond of unsolicited physical contact, but the gesture felt surprisingly pleasant, and she smiled at Clem softly.

"And yes, very much from my personal experience," Clem said. "I also had a controlling, manipulative, gaslighting ex, and consequently tons of insecurities and negative notions of myself."

"And then you ran into a Holyoake," Viola said and shook her head dramatically. "My condolences. One needs to have all their emotional strength and patience to deal with them."

Clem burst into a jolly laugh.

"And what about you?" Clem asked. "You'll have to forgive me, but we're all dying of curiosity. Neither Fiona, nor any of Rhys' sisters are insensitive enough to ask - so I'll do it." She wiggled her eyebrows. "What was your ex like?"

"You've met him," Viola deadpanned. "A large bloke, glares a lot."

Clem once again pushed her shoulder against Viola's. "C'mon, Dr. Holyoake, fess up," she sing-songed.

"Hani," Viola said after emitting a fake exasperated sigh, "was lovely, actually. He still is, I'm sure. A talented epidemiologist. He's in Doctors Without Borders. Loving, understanding, funny."

Clem tilted her head - in a gesture that struck Viola very similar to John's head tilt - and hummed pensively.

"Then why?" she asked.

Viola looked at the children who'd moved onto the swings.

"We had very different aspirations," she said without turning to Clem. "And his parents hated me. His mother, mostly. I had all the wrong attributes, you see." She chuckled joylessly. "I was ambitious, career-oriented, agnostic, and– they thought I didn't want children."

"Did you?" Clem asked.

"I did. In theory. He never did," Viola answered. "Hani's a wonderfully progressive, cosmopolitan, open-minded person. His parents are anything but. I always thought he was the opposite of Rhys at that: his childhood was just too difficult for him to see himself as being a part of a family again. For him, it was just the two of us - and the mission." Viola suddenly realised how much she'd shared - and she felt blush burn her cheeks. She schooled her face in her usual calm expression. "I'm sorry, that wasn't a particularly interesting story, was it?"

"Are you joshing me?" Clem exclaimed. "I loved hearing more about you!" She softly patted Viola's upper arm. "Thank you for telling me this. And I get it. I grew up with my brother and my two grandmothers. Lyn, my twin, has a large family, and I always had them to support me. And then I got pulled into the Holyoake clan," she said with a chuckle. "You had all this family when married to Rhys, and it's obvious you enjoyed it. And judging by your current choice where to live and to work, you love being part of a close-knit community."

Viola threw Clem a surprised look.

"I do," she said. "It took me years to understand it... and by then it was too late. First, I lost the Holyoakes." The old loss cut across her chest in the familiar acute pain, and just as always she didn't let it show. "Then Rhys and I divorced. And I never managed to build it with Hani. I suppose, my return to Fleckney is my attempt to find it again."

"And conveniently," Clem said mischievously, "if you decide that your cosy country life might benefit from a smidge of romance, this place has an unnatural amount of attractive people. Take your pick."

"I know, right?" Viola exclaimed, her mood lighter now. "It's some sort of a genetic anomaly!" They both burst into giggles. "I remember the first Harvest Festival I attended in Fleckney," Viola said. "I was madly in love with Rhys, we'd just started dating - but I just couldn't stop gawking around. Have you met the Harrises and the Whitlaws?"

"Oh god, yes! The blond ones, right?" Clem fanned herself with her hand in a fluffy pink mitten.

"There are also the Oakbies, but those are basically just posh Holyoakes. But then, there are the Coopers in Fleckney Woulds. The youngest is a police sergeant. He's my new patient, and my professionalism has been repeatedly put to the test," Viola deadpanned, and Clem rolled with laughter. "Oh, and also, the Montjoys in Lower Woulds–"

"Oh, I went on two dates with Edwin Montjoy," Clem announced proudly.

Viola emitted an appreciative "Well done!"

"There was already something going on between John and I, but I did," Clem added. "I couldn't help it! It was like in a romantic film. Long strolls, snowflakes softly fluttering around, Dr. Edwin Montjoy in his well-cut coat, so gorgeous, and chivalrous–"

"And a bore," Viola quipped.

"Oh my god, Viola Holyoake! You cheeky monkey!" Clem cried out. "You're so proper one would think you'd go for the likes of Edwin Montjoy." Clem gave her a theatrical suspicious look over. "Are you secretly naughty under this perfect make-up and this cashmere coat of yours?"

Viola gave Clem an exaggerated haughty look.

"No one will ever know," she whispered.

They laughed so loudly this time, one of the twins stirred in the pram. Clem pressed her hand over her mouth. Viola gave the woman an affectionate look. It was shocking how in the course of just one conversation Clementine Popplewell had become part of Viola's 'cosy country life' - and how heart-warming being near her felt!