‘Well, I try.’

‘Bloody masochism, if you ask me,’ Graham says.

Tor has had enough.

‘Actually, Graham, I try and go swimming every day, because I’ve got rheumatoid arthritis and the cold water helps with the pain,’ she says, standing up stiffly. She hasn’t meant to blurt it like she has, but only the truth will shut him up. There’s a moment of stunned silence. ‘You know, this has been … great,’ she manages generously, ‘but I really should be going. I’ve just realised the time and I don’t like driving in the dark.’

‘What? You’re going? After … after announcing that!’ Alice exclaims, as Tor slips around her. Alice clutches her arm. ‘Tor?’

Tor sighs. ‘It’s not a biggie. Seriously. It’s just a condition. I’m managing it.’

‘Like old ladies?’ Alice asks.

‘Roger, Roger,’ her mother calls. ‘Come quickly.’

Tor’s dad gets up from where, for no apparent reason, he’s been sorting out a deck of cards on the garden table.

‘What did I miss?’ he asks, and her mum reaches up to grab hold of his hand, clearly not able to receive this information alone.

‘Victoria is poorly,’ she says. ‘Oh, love.’

‘What is it?’ her dad asks, confused.

‘Arthritis.’

‘Oh. Rum luck,’ he says. ‘Sue had that.’

‘Aunty Sue?’ Alice pipes up.

‘She was the one in the wheelchair?’ Graham checks.

Tor watches them all staring at her, her cheeks burning. She longs for Lotte. Lotte would know what to say.

‘Oh, so there was a reason. I knew it,’ Graham says, as if he’s sussed out why she’s been self-flagellating.

Tor can’t bear it that he’s so disparaging about something she loves so much. Something he clearly doesn’t – and won’t ever – understand. He nods at Alice as if he’s been particularly clever. She shakes her head and makes for the door of the ‘event shelter’.

‘Do you know? I’m just going to go.’

Alice catches up with her when she’s halfway across the garden. It’s drizzling and cold. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she demands. ‘I’m your sister. I’m your twin.’

‘Because you’re married to that insensitive arsehole.’

‘He’s not … he’s …’ Alice tries to defend him, but Tor doesn’t want to stay and listen to her sister’s justification. ‘You should have told me.’

‘Why? What’s the point? It’s not exactly as if you can do anything about it.’ Tor isn’t used to taking this tone with Alice, who backs away.

‘But … I would help. I can’t believe that you’ve kept it all to yourself.’

‘Well, now you know.’

There’s a beat and Tor sighs. Alice’s chin is wobbling indignantly.

‘You could have rung, or texted, or something. You didn’t have to drop it like bomb into Easter. When I wanted it to be so perfect. I tried to make it so lovely for everyone and you … you …’ She’s started to cry and Tor looks up to the sky.

‘Alice …’ She sighs. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Too late,’ Alice says, weeping openly now as she struts back to the event shelter, her bottom wiggling in her skirt as she negotiates the damp grass with her heels.