Fat tears rolled down his cheeks. He put out a hand to steady himself on the sink. His shirt was half-unbuttoned and his hair stuck in strands across his forehead. Irene bit her lip – she didn’t want to feel pity for him like this. She preferred the anger and contempt. And she didn’t want to be standing in a bathroom that smelt of vomit and bleach, while her father reminisced about his fake past.

‘Come on,’ she said briskly, a girl guide. ‘Jem’s going to make a speech soon. We don’t want to miss that.’

She hooked an arm through his and towed him listing back to the party.

Outside, there was a moon now. People were still dancing, but the music had slowed and there were ghostly figures dotted around the garden, chatting or simply looking on. Irene poured herself half a glass of wine and sat cross-legged on the grass, leaning back against the wall, feeling its roughness through the thin fabric of her dress.

‘Can I join you?’

‘Sure.’

Mickey lowered himself beside her.

‘They look happy, don’t they?’

‘Mmmm.’

‘This is the way to do it – dancing on a summer’s evening. Nothing fancy. Sandy’s parents insisted that we married in a church and then we had seventy people to a sit-down meal in this stuffy hotel with dried-out chicken breasts and lemon soufflé. It wasn’t nearly as much fun.’

Irene didn’t reply, just twisted her glass round by its stem.

‘What was your wedding like, then?’ he asked after a pause.

‘Small,’ she said shortly. Just them and their witnesses, and straight afterwards they’d changed into jeans, picked up their backpacks, kissed everyone goodbye and gone cycling in Portugal. But she didn’t want to think about that now. She watched Lorrie and Neil standing together; Lorrie was taking animatedly, gesturing extravagantly, and Neil was watching her with a look of half-amused tenderness on his face. At one point he tucked a small snake of hair behind her ears and picked an invisible thread from her dress. She watched Jem and Juliet dance close together; Juliet’s silver dress shimmered like a mermaid’s scales in the moonlight. Jem stroked the back of her head and she put her face up to his, smiling.

‘You should think about coming on the boat with us on Sunday.’

‘It’s nice of you, but …’

‘I don’t like the sound of that “but”. Why not?’

‘It’s complicated.’

‘You could just do it for a few days.’

‘Well …’

‘It’d be fun,’ he said. ‘And Lorrie needs another woman. She likes you.’

‘It’s mutual.’

‘We all do,’ he added.

‘Thanks.’ She touched his shoulder. ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘By the way, I’ve been meaning to say, that dress looks good on you.’ He flashed his grin. ‘By which I mean, of course, you look good in that dress.’