Toby’s still focused on the TV. ‘Everything all right?’ he asks distractedly.

‘Yeah, fine. Just gave Dad a quick call.’

‘He okay?’

‘Yeah.’ I sigh and lean back into the sofa. ‘So? What are we watching? Did you find any comedies?’

Toby points the remote at the television and clicks it off. ‘No.’

‘I really don’t want to watch anything depressing.’

‘Me neither. I think we should forget the TV and go out.’ He looks at me, waiting for an answer.

‘Out?’ This is unexpected. ‘But dinner’s in the oven.’

‘So? We’ll save it for tomorrow.’

‘What about the kids? We can’t just abandon them.’

‘I’ll ask Mum to come over. She’s always offering to babysit, and we never take her up on it.’

In my head I run through all the reasons why we shouldn’t go out tonight. The main one is blindingly obvious. ‘We’re bound to run into people who’ve heard about Cassie-gate. It’ll be so embarrassing.’

‘Who cares what people have heard? We know it’s all a pack of lies, and anyone who matters will know that too.’

‘I don’t think I can face it.’ I shrink down into the sofa.

‘Zoe, this isn’t like you. Look, the party’s on Friday so you’ll see everyone there anyway. May as well go out now and get used to it. But I really don’t think you need to worry – people are more interested in their own lives than in ours.’

I know he’s probably right. I wonder at how our lifestyle has changed so much over the years. When we were younger there was never any hesitation about whether or not we should go out, no matter what the drama – and there was always something or other going on. ‘Where would you want to go?’ I ask.

‘I don’t know… doesn’t matter… the Cross Keys?’

‘The pub down the road? Hardly seems worth it.’

‘It’s a change of scenery, Zo, and the food’s great. Come on. You need cheering up.’

‘Is it that obvious?’

‘Yes, it is. It’s our anniversary on Friday; we should be excited about life, not miserable.’ He gets to his feet and holds out his hand. ‘Come on, where’s the Zoe I know and love? The one who’s always up for a laugh?’

I wonder where she is too. After a moment, I take his hand and let him haul me up off the sofa. I give him a small smile, a bubble of nervousness building in my chest. ‘You’re right. Let’s do it.’

‘Yes! Okay. I’ll call Mum.’

‘I’ll go upstairs and put on some lippy.’