‘Girls, I have something I need to tell you.’ Her face glows as she struggles to hold in a smile, pushing her plate away. When Sadie does the same, I lay down my fork, my food untouched, grateful for an excuse to leave it.

‘I’m pregnant!’ Amanda announces, and Sadie lets out an ear-splitting squeal, shoving her chair back and running round to squeeze Amanda tightly.

‘Oh, darling, this is wonderful news!’ Sadie beams, turning to me, as I smile and whisper my congratulations. ‘Em, it’s taken Will and Amanda simply ages to get pregnant, hasn’t it, darling?’ She squeezes Amanda’s hand tightly.

‘Lovely news,’ I say, unsure of how to react – after all, although I don’t know Amanda terribly well, this child will be my niece or nephew. ‘How far along are you, Amanda?’

‘Only six weeks,’ Amanda says, her joy evident on her face. ‘To be honest, I only did the test last night. Will is the only one who knows – apart from you two now – so please, please don’t say anything just yet. I’m feeling a little superstitious. Plus, you know, Will wants to tell his parents before anyone else.’ Amanda’s hand goes almost unconsciously to her belly to stroke her still flat stomach.

‘Oh, Diana and Eamonn will be over the moon,’ Sadie cries, ‘especially after…’ She falls silent and Amanda says nothing, leaving me to look at them both questioningly.

‘After what?’ I say, a confused smile tugging at my mouth. Amanda gets up and takes the plates from the table, moving to the sink, her back turned to me. ‘Sadie? What do you mean, especially after? And what were you saying about Caro rushing off earlier?’

‘Caro was…’ Sadie lays her hands flat on the table, looks down at them. ‘Caro was pregnant when she died.’

‘Pregnant?’ My mouth is dry, and I reach for my water, condensation making the glass slick under my fingers.

‘Didn’t you know?’ Amanda turns from where she stands at the sink, her hand still cradling her non-existent bump. ‘Did Rupert not tell you?’

‘No. No, he didn’t.’ Why didn’t he tell me? ‘I had no idea. How… how many weeks was she?’

‘Eight, ten. Something like that. Not many, but still. It made everything even harder.’ Sadie sniffs, knocks back the rest of her champagne. ‘I’m sure Rupert had his reasons for not telling you.’

‘Yes. I’m sure he did.’

I don’t know what to think. If Caro hadn’t died, Rupert would be a father. His child – a little boy with his cowlick and his dark blue eyes, or a girl, with Caro’s smile – would be a toddler, starting to walk, to talk, to be a little person in their own right. How could she do that to Rupert? To her own child?