My heart felt as if someone was wrapping their hands around it and squeezing tightly. Maybe I should cancel on Dan and spend longer on the phone with her. Shouldn’t my daughter be my priority right now? Part of me relished the excuse—I’d been nauseous ever since I’d agreed to going over there—but how would I let Dan know? I didn’t even have his phone number. It would be rude to simply not turn up.

Making a concerted effort to ignore both the cyclone in my stomach and my mother-guilt, I said, ‘I know, sweetheart, I miss you too. But only two more sleeps until I see you. What are you guys up to this evening?’

‘Dad and I might watch a movie.’

As long as Adrian didn’t break our rules and have some woman over to watch the movie as well … ‘That sounds great,’ I said, not wanting to hurry a goodbye but at the same time needing to get going before I really did chicken out. ‘You have fun. I’ll talk to you in the morning, okay?’

‘Okay, Mum. Love you.’

‘Love you, too.’

I took Charlie out for a quick pee, then gave him his dinner. After a big day in the fresh sea air, digging and running around on the island, he was knackered and would likely sleep until my return, which shouldn’t be long anyway. Once Dan and I had exhausted the fundraising topic, we’d likely be scraping the barrel looking for other things to talk about.

While Charlie munched loudly on his favourite dog biscuits, I went to grab the bottle of sav blanc I had chilling in the fridge, but hesitated.

Maybe I shouldn’t take it?

Although Dan had said I didn’t need to bring anything, I couldn’t turn up empty-handed. But two people sharing wine would definitely feel like a date.

Oh Lord. I glanced around the kitchen looking for something—anything—else to take. Once again, I silently cursed Adrian for putting me in this predicament. The day I said ‘I do’ I’d assumed I’d never have to contemplate dinner with a man that wasn’t my husband. Yet, here I was.

Finally, deciding to heed Dan’s words and take nothing, I slammed the fridge shut and slipped on my jacket.

Grow up! said my inner critic with a roll of her eyes as I headed for the door. What are you? Twelve?

And she was right. If I was going to Jedda’s I wouldn’t be thinking twice about taking wine. Resolving to stop overthinking everything, I went back and grabbed the bottle. As it was getting dark, I walked along the road rather than the beach, waving to Mrs Fine who was sitting out on her porch. She frowned at the bottle in my hand, but I hurried on, not wanting to risk a lecture.