Offered the choice, she’d have given their guests minimal notice, and had a quiet, restrained affair at a registry office. Except now everyone expected tradition, a quaint British event. Mike’s relatives, having known for some time that he was preparing to ask, were already poised over their laptops, ready to book flights over from New York as soon as a date was set.

Hawkins glanced down at the ring, which her mother had spotted from a distance of twenty feet the moment they got out of the car. The woman had been on the phone before they’d rung the doorbell, and within half an hour everyone down to third cousins and emigrated uncles had known. And that was only the start.

Clearly having convinced herself it wasn’t going to happen, Christine Hawkins was genuinely excited, for which it was actually hard to condemn her, but she was also now bursting to mastermind the perfect day.

Or her idea of one, at least.

Yet the more Hawkins resisted, the harder everyone pushed. The resulting stand-off had wormed its way steadily between her and Mike, and was refusing to budge. They were on course for disaster.

Which had made him even more set on getting hitched.

The appointment they’d missed that morning had been with an event planner, followed by several hours trudging round yet another wedding fair. Every minute they got together now was hijacked by the sodding big day. Visits to venues, meetings with organizers, discussing seating plans ad infinitum. And if Mike wasn’t around, there was always dress shopping with her mother. The whole thing was driving her mad.

But it was too late to back out.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the elastic pop of the cat flap. Sure enough, a few seconds later the flap lifted, and Admiral Kirk’s head appeared along with one, then the other, front leg. He steadied himself on tip-paws and shuffled forwards, his pear-shaped physique slowly filling the portal until he came to a halt, breathing hard.

‘Come on, then.’ Hawkins picked up the box of Iams and crinkled one of the packets.

Kirk’s ears pricked, and he resumed his shuffling, faster now. His portly gut squeezed in through the hole but there he stalled, his hind quarters still decidedly outside.

‘Is he … stuck?’ Mike stepped away from the hob for a better look.

‘That’s about the size of it, yes.’ Hawkins crossed the kitchen with her fiancé in tow. They stood together, looking down at the stricken cat.

Mike shook his head. ‘You gotta stop feeding the pudgy little bastard.’

‘Leave him alone. He’s had a hard life.’

Kirk strained again, but after a brief struggle, he sagged and looked up at them with imploring eyes.

Hawkins and Maguire exchanged glances and burst out laughing, the tension between them evaporating.