Making her way through the hotel, the last thing April felt was guilt, although there was some trepidation. She followed the throng until she reached the entrance to a dimly lit reception room containing a horde of partygoers that had consumed their small group of members. Above the chatter, George Michael was singing ‘Last Christmas’ and April hummed along as she grabbed a flute of sparkling wine from one of the waiting staff before stepping deeper into the room.

As she scanned the faces in the crowd, April smoothed out the material on her new lace dress. She had bought it specially, wanting to feel beautiful in something that hadn’t been sullied by Jason’s touch, and she received some admiring glances before her attention was caught by the red of Tara’s satin dress glinting beneath the lights of a chandelier.

‘You made it then,’ Tara said, unable to disguise her relief.

‘Sounds like you weren’t expecting me to.’

Iain was standing next to Tara and leant forward, ‘If I had a beer for every time she’s said, “I hope April comes tonight”, I’d be drunk by now,’ he said.

‘You have gone very quiet on us,’ Tara added in her defence.

April sipped her drink to give her time to form a response. She had swapped a few messages with Tara, but had offered no information other than to say she was fine. ‘I didn’t want to disturb you. You must be incredibly busy with the move.’

‘Not to mention all the Christmas orders,’ Tara admitted. ‘But I’d always make time if you needed someone to talk to.’

Iain drained his glass of bubbly. ‘Anyone want a proper drink? I’m getting a pint.’

‘I’ll have an espresso martini,’ Tara said. ‘Do you want something, April?’

Following Iain’s example, April drained her glass. ‘Actually, I’d love a G&T.’

‘You look stunning by the way,’ said Tara when Iain left.

‘You don’t think it’s too much, do you?’ asked April as she adjusted her plunging neckline. ‘I’m wearing a push-up bra and I’m scared they’re going to pop out. Tell me if they do.’

‘I’d say the reaction from half the blokes in the room would tell you if you had a wardrobe malfunction.’

Aware that her fidgeting had drawn furtive glances, April crossed her arms. ‘You look lovely too,’ she said. She was used to Tara nailing the vintage look, but she had excelled herself tonight. Her eyeliner flicks were perfectly Parisian, and her crimson red lipstick matched her full circle dress with its Bardot neckline.

‘I picked this up in a vintage market when I was in college and always imagined wearing it on midnight walks along the Seine,’ Tara explained. ‘It never made it further than Chester when Mike took me to the races.’