Flick had organized team games and obstacle races for the following day, and we all gamely joined in, getting drunk on terrible cider. The sports descended into idiotic wheelbarrow and egg-and-spoon races, and although she couldn't have taken it less seriously, shrieking as she continually dropped her egg, running out of control in her sack and falling over, Christina looked fab. Despite being a rider, I’m not remotely sporty, and in the final race of the day, I dropped the baton in the relay race to the groans of my team. Luckily, Christina was our final runner, and amazingly, she made up the ground to win by a short distance, urged on by the crowd, no one roaring more loudly than Hugo. Tommy's eyes came round to meet mine in delight. Oh yes, he was there. And he was having the best time.

It wasn't just me and Tommy who noticed Hugo's distraction, either. Vicky shot me a pitying look before supper when Christina came down from her bath wearing simple white jeans with a blue shirt and espadrilles, glowing with health and vitality, whereas my forte, being small and dark, is pale and interesting with quite a lot of eye make-up. Oh, and heels are a must, which isn't really the form for a country house weekend. And the thing is, because I was feeling insecure and jealous, I didn't rise to the occasion. I didn't behave very well. I'd smile thinly at Hugo, letting him know I knew. I chatted most of the evening to Vicky, even when he tried to include me after supper when we'd left the table for coffee. And we didn't make love that night, which was rare for a precious weekend away. Interestingly, Christina's boyfriend seemed oblivious to it all. Sam looked rather chuffed, actually, reveling in the reflected glow of his new girlfriend, who, he confided to Vicky, he'd thought pretty enough, but no great shakes. She wasn't, if I'm honest. But she definitely had something.

The following week was Hugo's birthday and I bought him a very expensive pen which I couldn't afford. We were in his car when I gave it to him, in Parson's Green, outside the pub. I saw his face go a bit pale when he opened it.

"It's great," he said, taking it out of its case. "Wow. A Mont Blanc. That's hugely expensive, Floss."

I shrugged. "I wanted to give you something special."

Odd, how, when you're in the grip of love and panic and total horror at the ground slipping away beneath you, you'll grasp at anything: do everything wrong. He shut the case and swallowed.