‘Um… Could you run that past me again?’ Gayle was not looking impressed. ‘Sorry… Got distracted by your yummy-looking apple pie.’

Gayle gave her a curt nod, mollified, and carried on. ‘It’s been three years now,’ she said, keeping direct eye contact with Anna, just to make sure she continued to pay attention. ‘And our regular family lunches have been lovely, but I feel that it’s time to have them once a month rather than every fortnight.’

Everyone else looked at Anna, waiting for her response. Was this a trick question? Was there some horrible catch she hadn’t spotted? Changing Sunday lunches to once a month felt like being let out on parole early. There was only one possible response. ‘That’s fine by me.’

‘Since this is the third Sunday of the month,’ Gayle said, ‘why don’t we just continue in that pattern?’

Scott pulled out his phone to look at his calendar. ‘So the next one will be in May, on the…’

‘On the sixteenth,’ Gayle finished for him. ‘And June’s really should be on the twentieth, but Richard and I wanted to talk to you all about that.’

The atmosphere grew solemn. Anna blobbed a bit of custard on her pie and placed the jug back on the table. No one else was picking up their forks and spoons, so she followed suit, and hoped it all wouldn’t be cold before Gayle had finished.

‘It would have been Spencer’s thirty-fifth birthday on the twenty-eighth, so I propose we move June’s lunch to the following Sunday, but instead of having it here, we’ll go out – somewhere Spencer liked to eat.’

‘What was the name of that restaurant near you, Anna?’ Richard asked. ‘The very smart Indian place we went to for his thirtieth?’

‘The Cinnamon Café,’ Anna replied. ‘But the prices are more upmarket gastro pub than cheap and cheerful local takeaway.’

Richard waved her concerns away with a brush of his hand. ‘Don’t worry about that,’ he said, smiling. ‘Gayle and I would like to treat you all.’

There were murmurs of thanks from around the table, and Anna breathed a sigh of relief. Last year Gayle had insisted on doing a ‘nice’ roast, incorporating all of Spencer’s favourites, the crowning glory of the menu being Spencer’s favourite black cherry cheesecake. Yuck. He’d always asked for it when they went around to his parents because Anna refused to serve it at her dinner table. Even the smell of all that fake cherry flavouring made her want to gag. Stifling the urge to vomit definitely wasn’t the way she most wanted to remember her husband.

And since the suggestion was to meet up the day before his birthday, it meant Anna would have the actual day to herself. Her spirits lifted. What about going back to Camber Sands? She could wander around the way she’d wanted to. She might even stay a night or two at a bed and breakfast.

Her luck continued after dinner. When Gayle reached for the pale blue photo album that Anna recognized as the one containing Spencer’s baby pictures, Richard peered around the edge of his Sunday paper and said, ‘Didn’t we look at that one last time?’