‘Any chance of some more rum?’ I asked the guy currently in charge of the ladle.

What happened after that soon became hazy. I was fairly certain another cup full followed it, and there might have been another after that. I was pretty certain there had been music and then dancing because everyone got a second wind as the moon appeared, bright, theatrical and full, above the horizon.

I know I looked for Sam and Hope among the happy throng who were partying with abandon, but finding neither, I carried on without them. Some time after midnight, I was struggling to remember what it was that we had all come down to the beach to celebrate and when I eventually settled on the sand under a blanket that wasn’t quite thick enough and gazed up at the stars, I found the sky was spinning, and when I closed my eyes, it whirled all the faster.

*

When I woke again, just a few short hours later, it was already beginning to get light and I could feel the blanket I had fallen asleep wrapped up in had left a haphazard imprint down the left side of my face. I was freezing cold and my body ached almost as badly as my head. Although not quite. My head seemed to be the real problem, or so I thought until I sat up and felt my stomach churn.

Gingerly, and as quietly as I could, I shakily stood, carefully stepping over the half a dozen or so other partygoers who had also opted to sleep under the stars and were still out for the count. From the little I could remember, we hadn’t ended up identifying the constellations, as had been the original plan, but we had had fun nonetheless. I also thought I had, at some point, been intent on celebrating something, but whether that was the solstice or something else entirely, I had no idea.

I steadily walked back along the beach and up the lane to the cottage. I trod lightly, feeling like I was taking the walk of shame, turning up on the doorstep in last night’s party gear, but I’d done nothing to be ashamed of, had I? After the classic painkiller, caffeine and dry toast combo, I took myself off to bed, barely registering when the letterbox rattled as my head hit the pillow and only coming back to life much later.

The letterbox had rattled courtesy of a note shoved through it from Joe. He said that he hoped everyone had enjoyed the party, that he was sorry to have missed it, that maybe he would be able to manage it next year if he was invited and then issued me with an invitation of my own.