Laura hiccoughed and held a hand over her mouth, feeling the burn of alcohol repeating. She should never have gone to the party. She should have stayed at home with Nate and tried to make some move towards fixing the cracks in her marriage, which had spread all too quickly in the last eight weeks.

She certainly shouldn’t have shouted at Mia in the middle of the back garden. Had everyone been watching? She had sensed pairs of eyes on her, but she didn’t know if they’d heard. She hadn’t been that loud. Or she hadn’t intended to be.

Laura had told Mia that she knew she was lying. Liar, she had called her. She might have said it more than once. She might have even prodded her in the chest as she did so – she couldn’t really remember. All she knew was that suddenly Janie Wood was by their side and the next minute she was in the pool. And Laura hadn’t even tried to stop her falling.

She had been mortified when Janie climbed out, her beautiful kaftan drenched as she’d shrugged off her husband, who had tried to help. Harry had in turn pulled Laura into the house instead.

She closed her eyes and let out a soft groan. Did everyone in the company really think she and Harry were having an affair? If they did, she could only imagine what they’d be saying now.

‘Are you going to be sick? Open the window, if you are,’ Harry ordered.

Why had he urged her into his car? Janie had seen them. Laura knew they’d been talking about her in the kitchen, though their conversation was fuzzy. She should never have agreed, but it was a ride home and Harry was quick to open the passenger door and nudge her into the seat.

‘I’m not going to be sick,’ she said quietly.

She wanted to scrub out the night, go back to the start of it, do everything differently. She wanted to cry, God damn it. That’s what she wanted. She wanted to cry racking great sobs, like a baby. Tears began to fall down her cheeks and she gulped more back.

‘It’s all right,’ Harry murmured from beside her. ‘We all screw up from time to time.’

‘I’ve just ruined your party,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to be so kind to me.’

‘Stop it, Laura.’

She winced at the touch of his hand on her leg.

‘Don’t beat yourself up about it,’ he said. His hand lingered on her thigh as he gently squeezed it.

‘I should send flowers to Janie.’ She moved her leg away from him forcefully, though now she was crushed against the passenger door. ‘To apologise.’

‘That’s not necessary.’

‘Everyone will be talking about me,’ Laura cried.

‘Yeah. But only for a day or two. It will all blow over.’