Tara wished she could ring David, just to hear him say something ridiculous like, ‘I’ll check in with Lloyd and see what the real story is,’ but … it would cross a line. They’d got very close to the line recently, talking about their lives but only during work hours; this would definitely cross it. On the other hand …

‘Please?’ said Molly. ‘I think Lloyd really likes you.’

David would probably say yes.

‘OK,’ said Tara, against her better judgement. ‘Seven o’clock.’

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The picnic table between Wye Villa and the studio had been decorated with enthusiasm while Tara was getting changed, and the design notes pointed to Molly as the project manager.

The spokes of the big umbrella had been wrapped with fairy lights, which also glinted around the backs of the wooden chairs and among the rose bushes. Fat crystal globes lurked in the flower beds like generously scattered handfuls of crystal balls, and jars of red roses and LED fireflies clustered around the table. The flowers, Tara noted, were not snipped from her mum’s rose bushes, but were stiff hothouse blooms from whatever supermarket the rest of the decorations had come from.

Thoughtful, conceded Tara.

‘Do you like it?’ Molly came rushing across the lawn, carrying a glass bowl of salad. She had changed for dinner too, into a long pink dress with streaks of gold and silver sequins like spangled seaweed. She’d undone her plait and the loose hair rippled down her back. With her pale arms and big blue eyes, Tara thought she looked like a mermaid.

‘It’s very sparkly,’ said Tara. ‘Did you do it all yourself?’

‘Yes!’ Molly looked shyly pleased. ‘You sit here.’ Molly put the salad in the middle of the table and pointed to the placemat with a gold T on it. ‘And I’m here, and Daddy’s here.’

‘Wow. It looks like a very special occasion.’ Not only new placemats but new glittery glasses, new golden side plates. Even the cutlery was rainbow metallic, not the dishwasher-safe IKEA set from the studio.

Good job she’d said yes to dinner, thought Tara. How had Keith sold this to Molly? Had he assured her Tara would be just as excited as she clearly was?

Molly beamed. ‘Daddy wants to know what you’d like to drink, please?’

‘Oh, just … whatever you’re having.’ Tara knew she’d need wine to get through this, but presumably that wouldn’t be available. Would it be making a point to bring her own, from the kitchen?

‘I’m having elderflower pressé.’

‘That sounds lovely.’

Molly disappeared again, and Tara sat down. Sybil was glowering at her from the bedroom window, and when Tara made eye contact, Sybil turned her head and vanished.