She threw me a look of concern but agreed. ‘Oh, there’s Maureen. Sorry, lovey, I need to go.’ She turned away from me, probably with relief that she’d found someone more normal to talk to. I craned my neck to see if I could spot Daphne. She was taking ages with the drinks. And then I spotted her, over by the hot-dog stand, talking to someone. My heart started racing. It looked like a man. Tall, dark. Was it . . . was it Victor? No, no, of course it wasn’t. This man looked younger, dressed in wellies and a waxed jacket. Daphne was smiling, and so was he from the way he was throwing his head back and touching her arm. Jealousy shot through me. Were they flirting?

‘Mummy, when is it going to start?’

I turned my attention back to you, unease growing in my gut, like bacteria. ‘Soon, sweetheart. Really soon.’

‘I feel sick.’ You thrust the half-eaten toffee apple into my hand.

‘Not surprised,’ I said, trying to keep my voice light. ‘Ooh, look! Look, it’s starting.’

You were distracted by the rocket that ripped through the sky and exploded over our heads in rays of pinks and purples.

And then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I jumped but it was only Daphne. She pressed her cold cheek against mine. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Here.’ She handed me a polystyrene cup and I dropped the toffee apple on the ground, stifling the guilt I felt at littering, so that I could take it and still hold your hand.

‘Who were you talking to?’

She frowned. ‘No one. Why?’

‘I saw you. With a man.’

‘A man?’ She looked confused for a few moments before she apparently remembered. ‘Oh, yes, that was Sean.’

‘What was he doing here? He came all the way from Chippenham?’

She shrugged, like it was no big deal. It crossed my mind that she hadn’t brought him over to introduce us. Did he even know about me? About us? I told myself I was being silly. Of course she would have told him. Unless he thinks she’s my lodger and nothing more.

She giggled. ‘I think he fancies me a little bit. But it comes in handy.’

I stared at her in shock. What had happened to all her feminist principles? To the ‘we don’t need men’ conversations we frequently had?

‘What?’ She laughed, sipping her drink. ‘He helps me carry the heavy stuff.’

‘God, Daphne.’ I turned away from her.

Her next words were drowned in the explosion of fireworks and I bent down so that I was on your level. I didn’t want to look at Daphne. You were watching intently, your mouth open in surprise as a banger burst into a riot of gold and yellow, but you covered your ears with your hands.

‘Are they too loud?’

You shook your head. ‘Pretty.’