‘Do you want a drink?’

Liam removed his hand from where it had been reassuringly placed at the small of her back and Hannah immediately missed his touch. She had questioned again how wise she was bringing him while on the ride down to Suffolk, but it had been a good call. Having someone with her who understood how difficult this was for her was helping to combat the nerves.

Yes, she wished she wasn’t here, but at least that awful sense of claustrophobia as she battled to hold herself together was for the moment kept at bay.

‘Please. Can you get me a white wine?’

It was tempting to ask for a bottle, but maybe that wasn’t a wise idea. Besides, her mother would frown on her if Hannah drank too much.

She glanced at Jane now, noting she was lapping up attention as she received congratulations from her friends and neighbours, the present table that had been set up at the back of the room – a trestle table covered in a white sheet and decorated with a banner – filling up with gifts and cards.

Hannah had given her mother and Geoff her own gift back at the house before they left for the party and they had seemed delighted with the theatre tickets.

To give her mother her dues, she looked good for her age. Her hair now expertly blonded by her hairdresser and styled in a severely short cut that most women couldn’t pull off. On Jane Lawrence, with her even features, wide eyes and high cheekbones, it looked striking.

As her mother hugged a woman with red hair, she caught Hannah’s eye and beckoned her across. ‘There she is.’

Hannah reluctantly made her way over and Jane immediately linked arms with her, so she was conveniently trapped.

‘Darling, you remember Gail Andrews, don’t you?’

Hannah did and she fixed a pleasant smile on her face. Gail was an old friend of her mother’s and had been a permanent fixture at the village hall for as long as Hannah could remember, running various groups over the years, from flower arranging to yoga. Apart from the hair, which had originally been a mid-brown, and the added lines to her face, she hadn’t changed much, her eyes, which Hannah always remembered as being beady, looking her up and down.

‘Hannah Freemont. Look at you, all grown up.’

It sounded like something you would say to a teenager rather than a woman in her mid-thirties. Still, Hannah forced her smile up a notch.

‘It’s actually Cole now. And it’s nice to see you, Gail. How are you?’

‘Can’t complain. Can’t complain. Your mother said you’d married.’

‘She’s divorced now,’ Jane helpfully pointed out. ‘It didn’t last long, did it, Hannah. That’s the problem with young people these days. They’re not prepared to work at a marriage.’