‘I got the prawns!’ Troy protested.

Everyone laughed and crowded round the table, helping themselves to the different dishes, many going back for seconds. There was a lot of talk about the foods and promises to exchange recipes. Evie related some stories about her father, who’d been born in South Louisiana and spoke French as well as English.

‘My dad didn’t go home to America after the war like most black GIs. He didn’t leave my mum, he married her. You can imagine how that went down with my gran and grandad. In the forties and fifties, there were hardly any mixed-race or black kids so I was different.’

‘Wow,’ said Zennor, her eyes wide. Even Ben was transfixed.

‘He used to call my mum and me cher but he pronounced it “char”,’ Evie said, her fork poised over the plate. ‘I wish you could all have known him. He was a lovely man, very brave to have fought in the war and then stayed here. So was my mum, marrying a man of colour back then. That’s what they called my dad in his hometown, a gens de couleur.’

Troy beamed proudly and gave his wife a squeeze. Chloe felt a little misty-eyed. Some partnerships did last a lifetime.

The pizzas were also brought from the oven and polished off, with even Troy having two slices and declaring how much he’d enjoyed them. There wasn’t much left on the table so Chloe asked:

‘Anyone for seconds?’

Zennor shook her head. ‘I’m so full.’

‘It was all delicious,’ Gabe chipped in.

‘So, no one has room for pudding?’ asked Sam. ‘As well as the tarts, I made a vegan choc cherry fudge cake for anyone who doesn’t do dairy.’

Ben’s eyes lit up. ‘Choc cherry fudge? I’ll take it home if no one else wants it!’

Zennor stared at him and even Chloe did a quiet double take. It was possibly the most emphatic statement she’d ever heard from him.

Gabe rubbed his hands together. ‘No chance of that, mate.’

Evie patted her stomach and groaned. ‘Can we have a bit of a break first?’

‘Good idea,’ said Chloe. ‘I need to make room.’

‘Of course,’ said Sam. ‘And anyway, I wanted to say a few words. Now seems the perfect time.’

Six pairs of eyes lasered in on Chloe. Everyone had a butter-wouldn’t-melt expression on their faces, which meant they were all up to something. She braced herself for a cake – a cake with forty on it – oh God, they might have clubbed together to get one and spent their hard-earned cash on a lie. She was going to have to come clean.

Ben had sidled off while Sam had been talking, but he now emerged back into the room with a large rectangular parcel covered in giftwrap and a frothy bow. It wasn’t cake-shaped but even so, Chloe wanted to sink through the floor with guilt. She gulped down the remaining fizz in her glass.