‘Fine,’ Ruth said eventually, and stalked off, her burgundy A-line skirt stiff in the evening breeze.

Della’s voice came from behind Mary as she watched the dramatic departure.

‘She’s just jealous she wasn’t invited. Like the wicked fairy from Sleeping Beauty. Ignore her.’

‘You’re right. We’ve had a perfect day, and I won’t let Ruth Cavanagh ruin it,’ Mary said, putting the encounter firmly out of her head.

10

June 2018

THE BAR IS CROWDED though it’s early still, and at first I don’t see Adana waving at me from a booth near the window.

‘You were in another world,’ she says as I slide into the seat opposite. ‘Got you a G&T.’

‘Thanks.’ I take a deep swallow and it settles me in a way that is good and not good.

‘All OK?’ She looks at me quizzically.

‘Yeah.’ I consider for a moment – what I can say, and what I can’t. ‘I’m just a bit unsettled after something that happened this morning.’ I fill her in on finding the video tape and Fran’s somewhat reluctant agreement to watch it in her house. ‘It was odd sitting there, seeing Lily blow out candles and knowing it would be her final birthday.’

Adana sucks air through her teeth. ‘God. When you put it like that … Though I suppose there’s a small chance she’s not dead.’

I saw her body. The words flash through my mind before I can stop them. I take another deep drink.

‘Anyway, we are being horribly morbid,’ Adana continues. ‘It’s Saturday night and we’re here to have fun.’ She takes a sip of her red wine and grimaces. ‘This isn’t going down very well. I think I had a few too many at your housewarming.’ She pulls a pack of paracetamol from her bag and pops two in her mouth before offering the packet to me.

‘I’m fine, thanks.’

‘As always. Joanna Stedman, woman of steel. You know, it’s not a sign of weakness to take a painkiller. Or to admit you have a hangover every now and then.’

I smile. ‘Mark was feeling fairly grim this morning. Reckoned it was that one past-its-sell-by beer he had, not the six before.’

‘Mark’s mother is quite something, isn’t she! Not a whole lot of filter there?’

‘Susie doesn’t believe in filters, no.’

‘I wanted to ask’ – a pause, a sip, another grimace – ‘were you OK with what she said? I mean, the fire?’ Adana, who is never ruffled by anything, is suddenly awkward. ‘It’s just, you don’t talk about it, and I’m never sure whether to bring it up.’

‘It’s fine. Susie does that – she likes exploring the gory details but doesn’t want to be seen to be nosy.’

‘But it must be hard for you?’

‘Not any more. It all happened such a long time ago … I don’t know if you ever get over something like that, but you can’t let it define you either.’ That’s my go-to line for explaining why I’m ‘actually fine’. ‘And Susie means well. It’s healthy to talk, and all that.’