‘That is my Dartington,’ Janie muttered as Laura pulled back in surprise. The glasses were a wedding present from her mother – the reason she had set out the cheap ones in bulk – and yet Harry must have bypassed them as he sought out this one for Laura from the cabinet. ‘Give me that glass,’ Janie said as she made another lunge for it, and still Laura pulled back, opening up the space between herself and Mia.

Janie felt her ankle twist beneath her. The pain shot up the outside of her right calf as she tried to rebalance on the paving stones that edged the pool, but already she feared it was too late. She felt herself tipping forward, unable to stop her fall as she plunged headlong into the swimming pool.

The air was still when she eventually resurfaced. The momentary silence was intense, before shrieks filled her ears, and in the distance a vision of Harry running across the lawn came into view. And as she pulled herself to the side of the pool, all Janie could think was that she was sure the hand that had reached out for her as she was falling hadn’t actually helped as it pressed against her back.

Someone had kindly brought Janie a towel from the summer house. She thought it might have been Patrick, but she couldn’t be sure as the crowd of guests parted and she made her way through them.

Janie had ignored both women gasping at her, asking if she was all right as she climbed out, but she knew they weren’t far behind her, and neither was her husband, who – once he had checked that she hadn’t hurt anything but her pride – had jokingly called out that the show was over and told everyone to refill their glasses.

Despite the chill from the water, heat rapidly crawled over Janie’s skin. Ever the host, she thought through gritted teeth as she approached the back door. More worried about what everyone else thought. Though at least by then conversations had started again and she no longer felt everyone’s eyes still on her.

Janie was livid. She stripped off the beautiful kaftan and changed quickly into another dress, desperate to get back downstairs so she could find out what the hell had started the argument that had caused her to end up in the pool. When she walked into the kitchen she stopped short as she saw her husband, who had one hand gripped onto Laura’s arm as the other was fishing in the bowl for his car keys.

‘What are you doing?’ She glanced at Harry and then at Laura, who was leaning against the door frame to the hallway, her head back, her eyes semi-closed.