By eight o’clock my lungs were starting to function again. The garden was full of guests, ranging from the ReadUp volunteers and clients to Pia, who was merrily chatting to my mum and Karina about local theatre. There was an empty space in my garden where Joan and Leanne should have been, but I’d arranged to video call the next day, and the book Joan had sent me was waiting on my bedside table. I also couldn’t help noticing that Sam hadn’t arrived. I knew he’d been delayed by the hunt for Nesbit, but it was hard to relax when one eye insisted on flicking between the back gate and the kitchen door, waiting for him to appear, and behind my greetings and smiles and chitchat was a running commentary on why he wasn’t here yet and if he was going to come…

As time ticked on, I determinedly dragged my gaze from the gate and scanned the clusters of people laughing and talking and loading up delicious platefuls of food. Yasmin and Trev were teasing Jaxx, who’d insisted on bringing a tub of Nomato, as well as his new girlfriend, who sternly told him it was disgusting and would be put to much better use as fake blood once he’d stopped being delusional and applied for the paramedic course.

Aunty Linda and Uncle Geoff were talking to Ebenezer, who even seemed to manage the odd reply. One table was a sprawling mass of Steph’s family, including her mum and Nicky, delighted to have been given the task of keeping Nesbit entertained and out of trouble.

I’d done this. I’d organised and hosted a party, and to my bewildered amazement, it seemed to be going okay. I caught Leon’s eye across the garden and he flicked his eyebrows in response, sending a slow roll of heat up from my stomach to my pink cheeks.

Okay, Ollie – time to stop wittering about who isn’t here, and start enjoying those who are.

Before I made it round to Leon, aware that it might be a conversation I wanted to last a while, I stopped to talk to Mum.

‘Hi,’ I said.

‘Ollie,’ Mum replied, with a tense smile. ‘Happy birthday.’

‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ I said, realising with a rush of relief that this was true. ‘The cushions are stunning.’

The tension eased a fraction. ‘Thank you. Your house is lovely.’

We chatted for a few more minutes about family, Buttonhole friends and other safe topics of conversation before she stopped, suddenly, mid-sentence. ‘Olivia. I don’t want to keep you from your friends. It’s very nice to see you. I have missed you, and I’m… I’m sorry. But maybe we can catch up properly another time?’

I don’t want to keep you from your friends.