‘Patronising? Sorry,’ said Veronica. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll be all sweetness and light from now on, as my reputation requires.’ She frowned thoughtfully. ‘Dermot managed to do both – write like an angel and sell in shed-loads.’

Laura, satisfied that no blows would be exchanged or glasses of wine thrown, leant across to Monica. ‘You’d better get in touch with Ironstone! And tell the people who aren’t here about Dermot.’

‘They’ll be so pleased! And Ironstone!’ She clapped her hands excitedly. ‘I must buy new knickers.’

Laura became aware of Fenella trying to say something to her but she was too far away. She leant in and concentrated on lip reading. After several attempts she picked up that Fenella thought it was a pity that Jacob Stone had decided not to come to this dinner.

‘He probably didn’t think Dermot would turn up!’ Laura mouthed back.

Fenella nodded agreement. ‘It means I’ve got to get Dermot to agree to meet him on his own.’ She frowned across at Laura. ‘Is he very difficult?’

Laura leant further forward, still struggling to hear. ‘Who, Jacob Stone? I thought he was your friend.’

‘No!’ Frustrated, Fenella raised her voice. ‘No! Dermot! Is Dermot really as difficult as everyone says he is?’

At that moment the double doors opened. ‘Right on cue,’ murmured Veronica. ‘You couldn’t have stage-managed it better.’

Dermot, shaved but still wearing his casual shirt and jeans, stood looking directly at Fenella. Then he smiled. ‘Why don’t you ask him yourself?’

Fenella got up from the table and walked round to greet him. She hesitated as if not sure if she should kiss him or shake his hand. ‘I don’t know what to say. In some ways, I feel I know you,’ she said.

He just smiled and opened his arms. ‘You’d better give me a hug, then.’

Fenella went straight into them.

Laura was aware of a pang of jealousy so deep at first she thought it was actual pain. She’d thought it was fine, that she’d had her magical time with Dermot and now he belonged to the rest of the world. But her heart wasn’t clued up to her rationalisation and it hurt. He hadn’t hugged her like that.

‘I’ve put you next to Eleanora,’ Fenella was saying.

‘I don’t want to sit next to her. I want to sit by the leprechaun and these attractive women.’

There was an instant shuffling of chairs and people getting up and sitting down. Laura caught Sarah’s look of resignation as her carefully planned seating arrangements were tossed into disarray. There was a frantic shifting of cutlery and glasses, too.

‘I know perfectly well why you don’t want to sit by me, Dermot,’ said Eleanora placidly. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll get to you later.’