‘I think you’ll find that’s lighter than mine,’ Lauren joked.

‘I think you’ll find not.’

They poured on equal amounts of creamy yellow custard, checking the levels in their bowls carefully and then returned to their table. The couples they’d been seated with were long gone, and she and Zak sat at the table alone, facing each other.

‘Spoons at the ready,’ Zak said, and they both held their spoons above their bowls. ‘On your marks, get set . . . go!’

They tucked into their final pudding with gusto, giggling between spoonfuls.

Lauren got halfway down the bowl and pushed it away from her, holding up her hands in surrender. ‘I’m done,’ she said. ‘I give in. The man with hardened arteries wins.’

Zak laughed. ‘I could eat another one!’

‘You liar.’

He finished another spoonful and tapped his bowl, saying: ‘There! Breakfast in bed for me.’

‘It will be my pleasure,’ Lauren conceded. ‘It’s been such a great evening. I don’t think I’ve laughed so much in ages.’

‘Come here.’ He beckoned her towards him. ‘You have custard on your lip.’

‘Here?’ Lauren tried to wipe it off with her napkin.

Zak shook his head. ‘Let me.’ He lifted her chin with his thumb. Then their eyes locked and time stopped and all the silly things that only happen in the movies happened.

He leaned forward and kissed her mouth tenderly.

‘All gone,’ he said when they parted. They were both breathing unevenly.

‘That last pudding nearly tipped us over the edge into gluttony,’ she laughed, in an attempt to add levity to the situation.

‘Ah, one of the Seven Deadly Sins,’ Zak said.

‘Yes,’ Lauren breathed.

And the way she felt right now, she wouldn’t mind indulging in one or two more of them.

Chapter 93

Chapter 93

At midnight, the phone rings. I’m not asleep. I’m awake staring at the ceiling. One of my favourite pastimes these days.

Greg grumbles to himself, but doesn’t quite wake. I pick up, heart pounding. It can only be one of the kids.

Sure enough, it’s Bobby. ‘Mum,’ he says, ‘can you come and get us, please? We’ve had a bit of bother.’

‘Bother?’

‘Ellen’s been mugged and I nearly had the bloke, but I think I’ve busted my hand.’

‘What? Is Ellen all right?’ I’m already half out of the bed.

‘She’ll be fine.’ But my son doesn’t sound like he thinks she’ll be fine.

‘Let me speak to her.’

‘My battery’s about to run out.’ Always a popular one.

‘Where are you?’

‘Up at the city centre. Outside Nitebox.’

A notorious club. A notorious trouble spot. What were my children doing there?

‘Give me fifteen minutes.’ I hang up. As I head to the wardrobe to find my jeans, my husband turns over, arm across his face. ‘What’s wrong?’ he mumbles.