We all sped down the nave, through the ante-room, out of the door. Down the steps we went, the spring sunshine glaring at us. Tess and Maudie were silent for once, their eyes huge and frightened. Imo was still shaking with noisy sobs. So many tears. So many years. Only we knew. Ned knew too, and I realized he was pale and struggling to compose himself. The sight of his face was too much for me. I burst into tears. We all held on to each other and Helena did too, her arms around us, holding on. She knew enough. Even Ant didn’t try to calm us. Although he did nip back to shut the church door. It was only when Tess and Maudie joined in the group hug and Maudie rubbed her heroine’s back and, echoing her mother’s words, murmured, ‘quite fucking right,’ as if permission had been given for all sorts of misdemeanours, that hysteria turned to hysterics. That fine line between the two worlds that gives the word its meaning was crossed. A lot of hiccupping and repeating of Maudie’s phrase occurred, and then, with much laughter and tears, we all mopped ourselves up. We came to our senses and calmed down. Ant, who always had a clean hanky, passed it around as Maudie, delighted to have broken the spell, tried not to beam triumphantly.

Suddenly our heads turned as we heard singing. The choir was soaring above the rest.

‘We have to go,’ Ant said at once, taking the lead, which was so unlike him. ‘That’ll be the final hymn.’

We all agreed, nodding and murmuring our accord.

‘We can go, can’t we?’ I said, mopping my eyes. ‘Don’t have to go to the wretched drinks thing she’s organized?’

‘Of course we bloody can,’ declared Ned, in a most unecumenical manner. At that, we moved off collectively, out of the front gate.

‘No – she’s having it at the Bluebird,’ I remembered suddenly, sniffing hard and jerking my head towards the Fulham Road. ‘We need to go left.’

Hurrying to get away as quickly as possible, we hastened, heads down, around the side of the church and Helena and I fumbled in our bags for tissues. Helena passed one to Imo, who was very quiet now. As she took it wordlessly, I hoped, I prayed, for my darling daughter. Prayed that there wasn’t something darker, something incredibly frightening and sinister that had provoked that outburst. Something that I didn’t know about. I had asked her once, twice, even, and she’d always said no. But would she say that? To protect me? She was that nice.

‘No,’ she said in a low voice, her hand on my arm. She stopped me in the street a moment. ‘No, I promise. I know what you’re thinking.’