He had one champagne cocktail before he removed his coat. It took the edge off his anxiety. He went into the crowded room, with the spangly Christmas tree standing in one corner and mistletoe hanging from the lampshade, and was immediately sucked into a group of people who were arguing about refugees, but he didn’t feel like having opinions this evening. He drifted across the room, drank another glass, kissed a flushed-looking Karen on both cheeks and gave her Irene’s message, joined in with an impromptu rendering of ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’ by the Christmas tree. He saw Karen’s daughter and her friend, at the edge of the room, glance at each other and roll their eyes. He rubbed his face; he knew that to them he was just another foolish middle-aged man who drank too much and flirted at parties with middle-aged women. He couldn’t see Frankie, although perhaps she was in the kitchen, or sitting on the stairs. He couldn’t understand why a woman he’d met several times a year over a decade or more should suddenly have the power to make his heart jump raggedly and his mouth go dry. He told himself that it would be best if she wasn’t here at all, and yet he found himself drifting towards the kitchen, pretending to himself he needed another drink, one of those mince pies that Karen always served.

Frankie wasn’t there, but Sarah was standing near the opened back door, both hands resting on the tight dome of her belly, and she turned a face to him that looked stricken.

‘Are you all right?’

‘I think – I think it’s happening. All of a sudden.’

‘The baby?’

‘Yes. It’s too early, Adrian.’

‘How early?’

‘Four weeks.’ She gave a little wail as she spoke and bent over. He put his arm around her and she leant into him. She smelt yeasty. He saw the sweat on her forehead and beaded on her upper lip.

‘Here, sit down here, that’s it, and I’ll find Gary. Four weeks is fine. Trust me, I’m a bit of an expert on labours, remember. Don’t worry. Try and work out how often the contractions are coming.’

‘Just one after the other, all the time.’

‘All the time? Oh Lord. Hang on.’