Lloyd the Labrador pottered amiably across the lawn, also dressed for dinner, in a floral collar. He wagged his tail at Tara and lay down on the grass near her, his eyes raised expectantly at the table.

‘Don’t worry, I should think you’ve got a bowl with an L on it,’ Tara told him.

He beat his thick tail three times on the grass in response.

‘Dinner is served!’

Tara turned her head: Keith and Molly were approaching, bearing trays. Molly’s tray contained large glasses of sparkling pressé, and Keith’s contained the bowls of scallops. No wine.

Molly opened the dinner conversation like a pro as Keith handed out the bowls. ‘I like your house, Tara. Have you lived here your whole life?’

Tara glanced at Keith. How much had he told her about his first family? ‘Um, no. I lived here until I went to university.’

‘With your brother Toby, and your mum, and your dog, Branston,’ Molly supplied.

‘Um, yes. And him.’ She nodded at Keith. ‘Until I was about your age.’

It took tremendous self-control to keep her expression neutral, but Molly’s reaction was one of pleasure, as if she’d got the first set of Hunters neatly stuck in an album.

‘What’s the nicest house you’ve ever lived in?’ Molly asked.

‘Hmm.’ Tara didn’t want to say ‘this one’, even though it was true. She pretended to think.

‘Didn’t you live in a rather amazing chapel conversion for a while?’ Keith speared a scallop. ‘Where was that?’

‘In Haversley.’ Tara was surprised Keith remembered. ‘Only for six months. And it wasn’t amazing, it had mice.’ And possibly a ghost, and definitely no carbon monoxide monitor. ‘How come you remember that?’

‘I remember you telling me about it – when we got together, ah, for your graduation. No, can’t have been. Your twenty-first? In London, anyway.’

Typical, thought Tara, that the flat was more memorable than their meeting. ‘I think you rang me,’ she corrected him. ‘You missed my twenty-first. And you were at my graduation.’

‘Ah yes, of course. Lots going on back then, details are a bit blurry.’ Keith seemed momentarily uncomfortable, then recovered. ‘Yes, I was curious about how they’d managed it – converted churches are so tricky. Magnificent space but you need a trapeze to appreciate most of it.’

Tara hadn’t thought about the creaky chapel flat in years. Mum hadn’t wanted her to move out, but Diane had talked Ruth round. ‘You need to be your own person,’ she’d told Tara. ‘Not your brother’s twin, not your mum’s daughter.’ She’d been right; the minor thrills of independence made up for the fact that her friends were starting jobs in London and Manchester. It didn’t quite make up for the hurt of Toby’s promised visits home being delayed. And delayed again.

Still, she’d had Mum.

‘Did you really have a trapeze?’ Molly asked.