Jeremy smiled at her as he locked the car and offered her his arm, but she shook her head. They’d decided they wouldn’t be too touchy-feely this evening. There was no point in adding fuel to the fire; Teresa deserved a fabulous party, not another traumatic chapter in their ongoing family saga.

They walked up to the hotel and entered the lobby, where they found a sign directing them to the relevant function room. The bass of the DJ’s throwback nineties playlist could be heard as they turned the corner to where the double doors were open. Scott and Teresa were standing there, smiling and greeting their guests as they arrived.

Teresa grinned widely as she saw Anna and held her arms open. ‘Glad you could make it,’ Teresa said, as she kissed Anna on the cheek, then whispered in her ear, ‘Is this him? Salsa guy? Not bad!’

Anna smiled weakly. ‘Are you sure this is okay? I don’t want to make things difficult between you and Gayle.’

Teresa waved Anna’s concerns away with a sweep of her hand. ‘This is my party,’ she said, lowering her voice, ‘not Gayle’s, and I say you can bring whomever you’d like. It’s been three and a half years, Anna. You’re allowed to move on.’

Anna nodded, and inside her head, the familiar litany rang: Three years, six months, nine days… But Teresa was right. Maybe if she and Gayle could co-exist this evening, if her mother-in-law could see that it was okay for her – for all of them – not to stay so firmly anchored in the past, then they’d all be happier. Maybe this night could be a turning point, not the disaster Anna had been dreading. ‘Is she here?’ she asked.

‘Not yet. I’m expecting her around eight thirty.’

‘And Little Spencer?’

Teresa nodded towards the function room. ‘My niece has got him at the moment – he’s asleep in his pram, out like a light, but we’ll see how long that lasts!’

Anna laughed and wished Teresa luck, then she greeted Scott and introduced Jeremy. As they turned to go through the double doors and into the party itself, Anna felt her stomach flutter.

‘What does she look like?’ Jeremy said in a low voice as they turned left inside the entrance and headed for the bar area. Anna regretted the ‘no touching’ rule at that moment, because she could have hugged him for reading her so well.

‘Tall, early sixties, but looking good for her age. Blonde, with one of those blow-dried, swept-back styles that’s held together with half a can of hairspray.’

‘A bit Margaret Thatcher-ish, then?’ Jeremy said with more than a glimmer of mischief in his eye. Anna smiled. This man had a talent for making her do that.

‘And twice as scary,’ she replied in a low whisper, ‘but it’s more of a bob than the full-on eighties Maggie crash helmet.’

Jeremy nodded. ‘Got it.’

They approached the bar. ‘Are you going to confront her this evening?’ Jeremy asked, once they had drinks in hand and were making their way to a table. Anna turned and looked at him in horror. ‘Well, it seems as if you need to have it out with her at some point.’