‘And first prize goes to the lovely Midsummer Gin, which I can reveal was made by …’ Jacqueline whisked the bottle off the envelope it stood on. ‘Hero! Congratulations, Hero, come up and receive your prize!’

‘Hero?’ muttered Tara. She was feeling unsettlingly floaty now, but not drunk, exactly. More warmed from inside, as if she were full of sunshine. No, not sunshine, pearly moonlight.

Jesus. I need water and carbs ASAP, she thought with a lurch of panic, but the jug on the table was empty, and Bryan and Judith were already clearing away the buffet in preparation for the entertainment.

Hero had dressed for the party in a diaphanous star-spangled navy gown, silver chains and bare feet. She had long toes, Tara noted, as if from a distance, and a very pretty rose-gold pedicure. She looked like Stevie Nicks’s granddaughter from Surbiton. ‘Thank you so much!’ she said, namaste-ing David, then Tara.

‘Wh’t’s in that g’n?’ David’s usual eloquence seemed to have deserted him.

‘I can’t reveal my secrets!’ Hero tapped her nose stud mysteriously. ‘But I’m glad you like it!’

‘It’s not drugs, is it?’ Emily looked furious. ‘You didn’t say we could put anything in it!’

‘No drugs, just the magic of the solstice,’ said Hero, and wafted serenely away with her bottle of champagne.

Emily scowled.

‘Wonderful!’ said Jacqueline, clapping her hands together. ‘Now, if you’d all like to collect a yoga mat from the corner of the room, it’s time for our very special party treat …’

‘I might grab a glass of water from the kitchen first, if that’s OK.’ Tara began to sidle away as the crowd surged back towards the yoga mats. ‘Do start though, I’ll just slip in at the back.’

‘Will you?’ Jacqueline gave her a pointed look.

‘Yes! Absolutely!’ Tara was already at the door. ‘Can’t wait!’

Five minutes in the loo checking her phone for messages (still nothing from Phil, or Toby), and another five washing her hands very carefully, was plenty of time for the gong bath to have got well underway, Tara estimated. The corridor was quiet and she tiptoed into the kitchen, where she knocked back two big glasses of water, picked up the bottle of wine she’d brought, and went straight out on to the iron fire escape that overlooked the back of the high street. It was high enough that she could see beyond the rooflines to the pale lights in the park, and the bandstand, lit up in candy-floss pink for charity.

Tara poured herself a large glass of wine and took a big sip. She wasn’t drunk. She felt calmer than she had in a long time. Open. Mellow. Lovely.

‘Ahhhh,’ she breathed, and leaned on the railing.

There was a giggle above her head and she nearly slipped over the side, spinning round to see where the voice had come from.

‘Sorry, sorry!’