In the tepid autumn sun, over twenty-five bums straining in the air, the clang of electric gates closing alerted me to Fin, strolling from the direction of Bill’s gate, up towards his own flat.

Minutes later, he appeared again, pushing his bike towards Nella’s.

As he passed that pink Evoque parked in Nella’s drive, Fin didn’t so much as blink. He also passed my husband, coming this way, dolled up to the nines as a ridiculous ringmaster. Fin nodded at Rex, who doffed his hat. But he didn’t even look my way; just mounted the bike and pedalled off.

And, right there, I felt my bubble begin to deflate.

Ruby

By the time I arrived at Nella’s for champagne cocktails, pink and sweating under the fake fur I’d managed to prise from a determined old dowager at the vintage stall, the house was in full swing.

‘Hugh Grant’s devastated,’ I could hear Nella telling someone loudly, ‘but he’s still on set at Shepperton. He’s going to send a load of signed bumph, for the charity auction. What an angel!’

Paddington Bear had also been detained, it seemed, as had Stormzy, though some local grime artist I’d never heard of was scheduled for an imminent appearance – after the local ladies’ choir and the brass band who were playing now – and before the grand firework finale.

I checked the time – just gone seven.

I still hadn’t managed to get hold of Zach. As the dog show had started at 5 p.m., I’d remembered – too late – that I’d promised Mrs Goodrich from next door that we’d show her bulldog Wilbur for her.

I’d tried Zach’s phone, to ask him to pop back and fetch the dog, but it went straight to voicemail.

I left a message, asking him to meet me at Nella’s.

Pushing past some guffawing men with turned-up shirt collars in the hallway, so close my belly grazed a portly stomach, I actually felt relieved to see the semi-familiar face of Bill, unlit cigar held between his big teeth.

He’d been deep in conversation with a guy I vaguely recognised but couldn’t think from where. Some silver fox type, with piercing eyes: another celebrity chum, perhaps.

‘All right there!’ Bill was jovial and clammy-faced as the other man left. ‘We met at the carnage in the woods, didn’t we – when this one saved the day?’ He inclined his head at the man in the checked shirt, who had strolled off now. ‘Bit of champers for you, er…’ He gazed at me blankly. ‘Sorry, I’ve just forgotten your name.’

‘Ruby,’ I said. ‘Thanks, but I haven’t got a glass.’

‘I’ll grab one.’ He headed towards the kitchen.

Through an open door, I could see Melissa chatting to Pat and the skinny tall youth, Laz, who’d been on the bar earlier. Ex-doctor Ish was laughing at Melissa’s joke, and she was pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, talking with animation, her audience happily captive.

Zach sidled up, clutching a carrier bag of Game Boy bits he’d bought on the Bric-a-Brac stall. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered. ‘Ran out of data.’