She and her group move over to the bar, laughing and chattering – no doubt about me and how I need to lighten up. I’m so angry my hands are shaking.

‘One mushroom hotpot and one shepherd’s pie.’ Lucy’s teenage daughter has arrived with our food order and is placing it on the table. ‘Can I get you any condiments with that?’

Toby shakes his head. ‘No thanks.’

‘Okay, enjoy.’

‘What do you want to do?’ Toby asks carefully. ‘Shall I speak to her? Tell her that what she did was bang out of order?’

I shake my head. ‘No, leave it. It won’t make any difference anyway. She doesn’t think she’s done anything wrong.’ I suddenly realise this is one hundred per cent true, and always has been. That girl thinks she can do anything she likes no matter how it affects other people. She has zero empathy.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he says, leaning forward and taking my hands in his. ‘I was wrong to suggest coming out tonight. I’ve only made things worse. Do you want to go back home?’

I straighten up and look Toby in the eye. ‘And let her ruin our night out? No way. Anyway, this smells bloody lovely. Let’s just forget you-know-who and get back to enjoying ourselves.’

‘Sure?’

‘Yep. I’m so excited about our spa weekend!’

‘I love you, Mrs Johnson.’

‘Love you too.’

We start eating and I try to ignore Cassie and her cluster of friends at the bar. But it’s not easy. Her shrill laugh keeps cutting through our conversation, setting my teeth on edge. Why the hell did she have to come back to Shaftesbury now of all times? This is supposed to be a special week for me and Toby, but now it’s been tainted by her selfishness.

‘You sure you’re okay?’ Toby’s forehead creases with concern once again.

‘What? Yeah,’ I answer brightly. ‘Absolutely fine.’ But my earlier excitement at our impromptu night out has evaporated, replaced by a heavy feeling of dread. As if things are closing in on me. First Madeline, then Dina and now Cassie again. The past and the present converging. The sense that something disastrous is happening and yet I can’t quite figure out what it is.

Nineteen

NOW

I drop the children at school and stride into work, trying to banish the dull throbbing in my gut, telling myself that I’m being ridiculous. That there’s nothing to worry about. It’s probably just an anxiety hangover from Cassie’s appearance at the pub last night. I wish I could just erase her from my mind. The early-morning air is freezing, the sky white with snow clouds. I hope the weather holds off or our guests might not be able to make the party tomorrow.