‘If you hadn’t waited so long to get the poor mite christened it would’ve been a perfect fit,’ Liz had told her numerous times.

Catrin knew her mother had a point, but she hadn’t delayed on purpose. It’d just been an organizational nightmare trying to find a date that everyone could make. Sol’s parents spent half the year in Jamaica these days, so that didn’t help. Then on top of that there was the question of Romy’s godparents. Sol’s brother Tom had been really flexible, saying he’d move heaven and earth to be there fulfilling his role as godfather. It was the godmothers who were the problem.

The choice was obvious, of course.

But seeing as they’d not been in the same room together for eighteen years, persuading Judith and Lana to stand side by side in front of a font, jointly vowing to fight Beelzebub on their god-daughter’s behalf, had been far from a walk in the park.

The initial response from both of them had been an emphatic no. At least, no to actually sharing the honour. Individually, of course, they’d both be delighted. But Lana wouldn’t do it if Judith was doing it and vice versa.

‘You’d think by now they could have a swift word with themselves and move on,’ Sol had said.

‘I know!’ she’d replied in frustration. ‘We’re thirty-seven, for God’s sake!’

Catrin, of course, had wanted more than anything to share the day with both of her best friends there as godmothers, not just one or the other. It wasn’t fair on Romy to be stuck in the middle of this ridiculous feud. Surely eighteen years was long enough to bury hatchets, mend bridges and finally reconcile? And for what better reason than the celebration of the arrival of her beautiful daughter into the world? But each attempt at persuading her friends was met with a rock-solid negative response.

‘Well, maybe I won’t have either of you then!’ she’d announced. This ultimatum unsurprisingly set the cat amongst the baptismal pigeons.

‘Why should I miss out just because of Judith bloody Harris?’ Lana had said when she was home, visiting. ‘It’s not fair. I haven’t got any kids …’

‘You’re hardly menopausal!’ interrupted Catrin, but Lana ignored her and ploughed on.

‘She steals my boyfriend and now she wants to steal my only opportunity for a mothering role?’

‘Don’t be so dramatic, Larn,’ said Catrin.

‘I’m an actress,’ she muttered. ‘I’m meant to be dramatic.’

‘By the way, Judith didn’t steal your boyfriend. And in case you’ve forgotten, we were only nineteen!’

‘Yeah, nearly two decades ago and still the woman blames me for what happened. It was an accident, for God’s sake.’

Catrin was fighting a losing battle.

So she’d turned her attentions to Judith, going with Sol to visit her and the family in Richmond. Catrin pleaded with her one more time to change her mind or else forego the chance to become Romy’s godmother.

‘That’s blackmail,’ Judith complained.

‘Exactly,’ retorted Catrin. ‘Needs must.’