I haven’t heard the song in years but my body still instinctively knows the routine. The three glasses of Prosecco I’ve drunk probably explain why I let her pull me up. I soon find myself strutting down towards the garden fence. We turn and attempt a slut drop, but we don’t make it as far down as we used to. Then, as the music builds at the end of the chorus, we shimmy round to the final ‘Don’t cha’, pointing our fingers out towards Douglas and Alfie. But my body freezes as I stare in the direction of where my finger is pointing. Joel.

He looks directly at me and I almost forget about the others in the garden. He still looks good. His hair’s shorter than it used to be but it’s still long enough to be tousled. He’s wearing a black T-shirt, black jeans and his arms are tanned.

‘Edie,’ he says. There’s no warmth in his eyes like the others had, and his lips are curling.

Douglas gets up and slaps him on the back.

‘I see someone else didn’t know about the mystery guest. You want a glass of Prosecco?’

Joel nods.

I slowly regain the power over my hand that was frozen in a point and it drops to my side.

‘Your face is a picture.’ Soph picks Alfie off the blanket and takes him over. Joel tickles Alfie’s stomach before he gratefully takes the glass Douglas hands him, drinking it quicker than I did.

‘Easy, Joel, it’s a long afternoon ahead,’ says Soph.

‘Sorry, I was thirsty after the ride over here.’

‘You know, water works well when you’re thirsty. I’ll get you a glass when I’m on my way back; I think this little man has done something in his nappy and I’ll go and change it.’ Soph holds Alfie like he’s a suspicious package.

My legs are unsteady walking back over to my chair and it takes both of my hands to keep my glass steady as I finish the rest of it.

Joel sits down on the chair furthest away from me.

‘And I thought I was surprised.’ Douglas goes to top up his glass only to find the bottle empty. ‘I guess the magnum will be chilled enough by now. Don’t have too much fun without me.’

He looks between us, clearly picking up on the tension.

‘What are you doing here?’ asks Joel, staring at the rug on the floor. It bothers me I didn’t even get a ‘hello, how are you?’, just a straight-up blunt question. Why’s he mad at me after all he did?

‘Soph invited me. She phoned me at work after I’d looked her up on LinkedIn one day. If I’d known you were coming, I wouldn’t have—’