My father greeted us when we arrived. He gave me a weak “we’re in public” hug then shook Pete’s hand, while giving him the quick once-over. Somehow Pete’s suit passed muster, or maybe it was Pete’s natural charm. Either way, Dad nodded once in approval before moving on to greet others, the medals on his military uniform glinting in the sunlight.

I didn’t see my mother until we stepped inside the church. She was sitting in the front row facing the altar, her shoulders hunched. My brother Will sat beside her and neither of them turned to watch people file inside. They just stared straight ahead, as if they were alone on their own separate desert islands.

I knew better than to sit near the back. My father would demand we move up the front with the family members. So I sat directly behind Mum. I inhaled the scent unique only to her, which reminded me of all the hundreds of times I’d sat beside her bed, willing her to look at me, to smile, to let me know I existed. It hurt to swallow. It hurt even to breathe. And then, as I felt myself falling into an increasingly familiar dark place, Pete took my hand, squeezed it and whispered, “You’re beautiful”, in my ear. That was the moment I decided I’d love Pete no matter the risk.

With Emma’s help, we finish making the tea and she retrieves a container of home-made shortbread from her bag. I place some on a plate, along with my store-bought chocolate biscuits.

“Juggling work with her appointments is the challenge,” Will is saying as we re-enter the lounge.

Tears pool in Mags’ eyes and even Lily looks close to crying.

“What did I miss?” I ask, looking accusingly at Will.

I bet he’s decided to ramp up the sympathy levels with a sob story.

“Will’s daughter was in a terrible car accident with her mother,” Mags says with a choke.

“Her mum died at the scene,” whispers Lily.

I sit with a thump in the corner armchair.

“That’s awful.”

Will has his head bowed and he’s chewing the tip of his thumb again.

“It’s not something I tend to talk about,” he mutters.

“Was your daughter OK?” Emma asks.

When Will doesn’t reply, Lily speaks for him.

“She crushed her foot, broke like a gazillion bones and has only just started to walk again. That’s why Will’s here – Matilda had an appointment with a specialist in Millwater Hospital down the road.”

Emma gasps. “How old is she?”

Will lifts his head. “Tilly will be seven in a month.”

Seven. He’s had a daughter for seven years and I never knew about her. Why wasn’t she with Will at James’ wedding?

“I didn’t even know Tilly was my daughter until she was four years old,” Will says as if reading my thoughts.