I finally heard back from Madeline earlier this morning via text. It wasn’t exactly friendly, but it wasn’t rude either. Just perfunctory, telling me she’ll pick up the cake and party decorations as planned. Thank goodness for that – at least that’s one weight off my mind. Toby has written his speech, which he won’t let me hear before the party. I asked Dad if he might say a few words, but he said that public speaking wasn’t really his thing. I’m disappointed, but I have to agree with him – his speech on our wedding day was pretty basic. Just wishing us a long and happy life together. Which was lovely, but I think our guests were expecting a bit more – perhaps an anecdote or two. Luckily, Toby has arranged for his dad to say something at the party instead.

As I approach the salon, I slow my pace, that feeling of dread resurfacing. I realise it’s because I’m nervous about seeing Jennifer again after yesterday’s debacle with the magazine article. Thankfully, she’d calmed down by the end of the day, but I got the feeling that I still wasn’t her favourite person in the world. Which, in my opinion, was a little unfair, as Cassie shafted me as much as Jennifer. Anyway, I’m here now, so I may as well go in and get it over with. I arrive at the same time as Becky, who gives me a sympathetic look. But we aren’t given the opportunity to dissect yesterday’s disaster as Jennifer opens the door for us and ushers us in.

‘You girls okay this morning?’ she asks.

‘Bloody freezing,’ Becky replies.

‘Fine,’ I add, unable to gauge Jennifer’s mood.

‘Oh come here, you silly sausage.’ My boss opens her arms and gives me a hug laced with Dior. ‘I’m sorry I went off on you yesterday. Of course it wasn’t your fault, babe.’

‘Oh.’ I put a hand to my heart. ‘I’m so relieved, Jen. I really thought you blamed me.’

‘No, not you. That trampy little cow Cassie Barrington. If I ever see her again, I’ll…’ she tails off and laughs. ‘Anyway, I bought us all posh coffees and Danishes to banish the evil witch from our thoughts.’ She points to the reception desk. ‘Tadaaa!’

‘Yum.’ Becky grabs a coffee and a pastry and takes a huge bite.

‘Eat them in the back please!’ Jennifer gives Becky a light slap on the shoulder. ‘I don’t want crumbs all over the salon floor.’

‘Thanks, Jen.’ I help myself to a coffee but can’t face a Danish just yet. Maybe later. Then again, maybe not. I watch as the staff roll in and swoop on the tray like excited starving seagulls.