‘Oh, go on so, I’ll have another glass, thanks,’ Susie said. ‘Cynthia’s looking after the kids – I may as well enjoy myself.’

Mary glanced over to see Cynthia had moved away from Ines, and was now chatting with Tom Stedman down near the end of the garden. At a distance, she looked almost goddess-like. Long, wavy butterscotch hair, contrasting with her white broderie-anglaise dress. Like a midsummer fairy. At a distance, at least.

The three Stedman children were running towards the pool now, cannonballing into the water as soon as their t-shirts were off. Susie brushed water droplets from her neat, pink dress, and frowned, looking around the garden, searching for her less than attentive babysitter, perhaps. Her gaze settled on Cynthia and Tom and she immediately looked away, smiling around at everyone else.

Mary jumped in. ‘Should we move away from the pool before we get wet? We could sit?’ She pointed at the white garden chairs, set up around small tables, a little way away from the pool.

‘We’ll have to move the chairs soon,’ Robbie said, squinting at the sky and the trees at the end of the garden. ‘We lose the sun very quickly in the afternoon.’

‘Can’t you top those trees?’ Victor said impatiently, somehow making it sound like a criticism. ‘I’ll give you the name of a tree surgeon.’

‘They’re not our trees,’ Robbie said. ‘The tallest are in Ruth Cavanagh’s garden. We’ve gone in I don’t know how many times, offered to pay for all of it, but she’s so stubborn.’

‘She’s a cranky so-and-so, that’s for sure,’ Della said.

Susie put her finger to her lips. ‘Della, you’ve a voice like a foghorn. She might be in her garden.’

‘Ah look, she’ll never hear me at this distance.’ Della turned to Mary. ‘Will Lily be OK in there? It’s deep for a paddling pool – the water must be up to her waist?’

‘It is, but she’s in capable hands, Cora is so good with her,’ Mary said, smiling at Ines, who had joined them again.

Ines nodded and sipped her wine as the sound of splashing and laughter drifted over from the pool. Lily was trying to copy Cora now, lying down in the water beside her. Cora’s voice lifted above the shrieks and yells of the Stedman boys’ game. You have to stay down for longer. Five seconds now, OK?

The sun blasted down from the mid-afternoon sky and the conversation moved from Ruth Cavanagh to Ines’s mother to Victor’s business; the lazy buzz of summer – insects and lawn mowers and thick heat and wine muffling words. Tom and Cynthia joined them, Tom taking his place beside his wife, his arm around her waist. Mary smiled at Cynthia and asked how she was doing. Cynthia flashed a gap-toothed smile back and ran her hands through her hair. Up close, the goddess mirage evaporated. Up close, Cynthia smelled of unwashed skin and cigarettes. Her long, white dress was stained yellow under the arms, and her breath was a mix of coffee and wine. Up close, Cynthia was glassy and jittery and unsettling.