‘It’s “Perfect”, by Ed Sheeran,’ he said, ‘it has the loveliest video. Not that I’m much of a fan of romantic rolls in the snow. It’s too cold for a start.’

It wasn’t the official video that I was concerned with, it was the far more intimate showreel running through my head. As I listened to the lyrics about a hundred things rushed into my formerly befuddled brain and none of them made much sense.

‘What is it, Tess?’ Joe asked again.

If my memory served, I had kissed Sam on the beach, under the stars and behind Hope’s back. And, worse than that, I’d absolutely loved doing it, so much so that it felt as good as my first time. In fact, I now knew with the utmost certainty that Sam had been my first time.

‘Tess,’ said Joe, now squeezing my hand and sounding even more concerned. ‘Talk to me, for god’s sake.’

What could I tell him? Certainly, none of what I had just remembered. He hadn’t been my first fabulous kiss – Sam had – but what had happened down at the beach huts all those years ago to prompt them to swap places? And, more to the point, why hadn’t I understood this after the kiss at the party? Or maybe I had?

It must have been the effect of all that rum which made me forget again. I had no doubt been punch-drunk, literally, all week. Perhaps I had realized the truth before I drank myself into oblivion and had felt so felt guilt-ridden for going behind Hope’s back and so deeply shocked that I had let my cup be topped up in order to forget again.

Then my thoughts flicked to Sam. He’d been the archetypal bear with a sore head all week but surely he should have been on cloud nine. My memory loss had ensured I had been oblivious to what had gone on and consequently I hadn’t breathed a word to his girlfriend. We might have kissed, but I certainly hadn’t told and that should have put him in a half-decent mood at least. Unless he had been too busy worrying that I would remember and then drop him in it? And what about that first time? Never mind Joe simply remembering me, did he remember what he and Sam had done from way back then?

‘Tess!’ said Joe again, much louder this time.

‘Oh god, sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. I was miles away.’

‘No shit,’ he frowned. ‘Whatever is it?’

I shook my head, freeing it of the dizziness, but still not knowing what to say.

‘It’s not my cooking, is it?’ Joe demanded. ‘You don’t feel ill, do you?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘of course not.’

‘That’s all right then,’ he said, sounding relieved as he released my arm.

‘Although I do think that wine was pretty strong.’