They go down into the depths of a multistory lot. What if it closes, while they are at the dinner? How will they get to Whitstable? They go up in the lift and do not speak. He looks tired beneath the overhead light. Hannah’s phone buzzes in her pocket—she fishes it out. Finally: Cate with the directions.

“She sounds happy,” she says, as she puts her phone back into her pocket.

It is cold on the street in Canterbury, colder than in London. She has dressed too flimsily for the weather. She wants to ask Nathan to hold her, but he is hunkered down into his coat. Has she ever had to ask him to hold her before?

He rolls a cigarette and lights it. She bites her tongue. They walk past a small supermarket, and then into a small estate, find number eleven.

She wants to go back to the car. To drive back to safety, to her home, which feels such a long way away. She wants to stop and hold her husband. To shake him until his water runs clear again, until his secrets fall out.

Nathan reaches up and presses the doorbell.

“Hannah!!” As Cate opens the door, she stumbles forward. Nathan steps up to grab her elbow. “Hannah! Nate! Come in, come in!”

Cate is flushed, talking loudly as she pulls them through a narrow hallway, a cramped sitting room, to where expectant faces crowd around a small round table. “Everyone!” says Cate. “This is Hannah! And Nate. The best couple in the world!”

Cate

IT IS GOING WELL—SURPRISINGLY WELL—EXCEPT THAT SHE cannot find her wineglass. She had it a moment ago—did she take it when she went to the bathroom? There it is, on the other side of the table. She reaches for it, but Nathan gets there first, and passes it safely back towards her. Mark is talking, something about sailing.

“The coast is so close. Got a friend with a boat, takes me out fishing—you should come, Sam. Next summer. We take some decent wine, cook up on deck. He’s got cash. If you cook like this, I think he might be interested in your food too.

And Sam is nodding, looking pleased. And the food—they are all eating their food, and it is delicious, really delicious, they are all saying so—and here is Dea, her face intent, listening to something Hannah is saying. And Cate is filled with warmth for Dea—whose idea this was—who turned up bearing cordial, wine-dark elderberry cordial made from her collection, which Cate stowed in the kitchen for Hannah to drink. But tonight Hannah is drinking—and Cate laughs to herself because it is so good to see Hannah here in her house, drinking wine.