‘Does Catrin know?’

‘What? No – yes, I had to tell her. Look, I’ve wanted to tell you about it for a while, but it was never the right time …’

‘But I don’t understand,’ Lana interrupted. ‘I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone.’

‘Come on, you two! You’ll miss it!’ shouted Huw Kelly, who’d come out looking for them, panicking that his daughter’s bridesmaids would miss her first dance. He reached out and grabbed them both by the hand, before leading them back through the French windows of the function room, where Catrin and Sol had begun moving awkwardly to the sound of Minnie Riperton’s ‘Lovin’ You’.

‘Aw, will you look at the pair of them?’ sighed Huw. ‘And the song says it all, doesn’t it? You simply cannot beat a bit of Riperton, all them screechy high notes.’

Judith and Lana stood either side of him, both fixing their gaze on Sol and Cat, and attempted to join in with the general oohs and aahs of admiration coming from the crowd that encircled the happy couple.

As the song approached its conclusion, the guests applauded the newlyweds and, in return, Sol and Cat invited the others to join them on the dance floor as the strains of the first dance segued into Rick Astley’s upbeat number ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’.

‘Come on now, Amelia! Let’s show ’em how it’s done!’ shouted Huw as he took the hand of Solomon’s mother, who in turn squealed with delight.

‘Right,’ said Lana, her eyes shining with intrigue, and eager to finish the conversation. ‘So who’s this mystery fella? And how comes Catrin Kelly – sorry, Catrin Blythe – knew about him before me, you traitor!’ She laughed, trying to hide the fact that she was a bit hurt. ‘And oh my God, you’re pregnant, Jude!’

Judith stared back at her friend. Only with sorrow in her eyes, at what she was about to do.

‘Jude?’ said Lana, confused and frowning.

But then another voice came from behind her. ‘Jude!’

Lana followed Judith’s gaze and turned around to see Gareth, standing in clothes she’d never seen before, his hair shorter, clean-shaven, wearing a shirt and tie. Clothes so alien to him.

‘Alrigh’ Lana? How’s it goin’, alrigh’?’ said Gareth quickly, unrecognizably polite and avoiding eye contact.

She barely recognized him or his nervous demeanour.

‘Gareth! There’s nice! How you doin’?’

He looked gorgeous and she felt herself blush; it was impossible not to find him attractive. This was the first time they’d seen each other since that terrible night in February.

He didn’t answer her, but turned instead to address Judith with disturbing familiarity.

‘Where do I put the present?’ he asked her quietly.

And without needing any further explanation, without even needing to hear Judith’s reply, Lana knew.

She knew.

‘Fuck me, Jude, please don’t say it’s Gareth,’ she shouted over the strains of Rick Astley.

But Judith didn’t answer, just looked down at the floor.

‘I said,’ Lana shouted, louder this time, and peering into Judith’s face, ‘is it Gareth? Is he the father? HAVE YOU BEEN SLEEPING WITH GARETH?’