Divorced? Stuart? My mind began to reel. That meant he was free, single. I took a gulp of champagne then another one, as a tidal wave of repressed feelings threatened to break down the wall that had held them back. I’d told the world and myself that he was my friend, but I’d been secretly in love with him from the day I met him. Had he ever felt anything? Apart from the night at the lock-up, he’d never given me the slightest hint that he was attracted to me, never flirted, was always professional. The main sense I got from him was that he acted protectively, like an older brother looking out for me. I’d always felt like a silly girl with a schoolgirl crush on someone out of her reach, so had pushed the attraction I felt for him to the back of my mind and never mentioned it to anyone. It was there from that first day on the Heath – a connection, a pull, a brightness I always felt when around him. Sometimes, at our sessions in his office, he’d let his guard down and talked about his life and passions – music, animals, his love of history and art; he wanted to paint, dabbled in watercolours at the weekends. But he hadn’t been available. I’d reminded myself every time I saw him until I was used to seeing him as a friend, nothing more. He was married with two grown-up children and I wasn’t a home-wrecker, never had been, never would be. And I’d always thought he was happily married because I’d never heard him criticize his wife; not once. I’d told myself the attraction I felt was all in my imagination, and the feelings I had were because he was a man out of reach, which was convenient because I would never be let down by him. As long as it was only in my head, a love affair unconsummated, he couldn’t disappoint me, reject me, cause me pain. My fantasy lover.

And now he was free.

I took a third gulp of champagne and looked around the wedding guests. I couldn’t see anyone else I knew, so I wandered over to look at a series of old photographs on the wall opposite. As I studied them, Michael came into the room and strolled over to join me.

‘It’s the pub before the war,’ I told him as he looked at the frames. ‘I believe the street was bombed and many of the houses on the opposite side were flattened.’