‘No worries,’ said Catrin. ‘But when you get to the church, come in the side door, otherwise everyone will hassle you. We’ll keep you a seat down the front.’

‘Sure.’ She was into her jeans by now and struggling to pull on her top.

‘And Larn?’ asked Catrin from the other end of the line.

‘Yeah?’

‘I just want to check. Is there absolutely no way you’ll come if Judith’s there?’

‘I can’t believe you’re even asking me that,’ she said irritably. But Catrin wasn’t giving up.

‘It was eighteen years ago!’ she yelled.

‘I wouldn’t care if it was a hundred years ago!’ Lana yelled back. ‘Look, if you want to invite Judith, I’ll bow out. But please stop asking me about this, Cat.’

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Can’t blame a girl for trying though, can you?’

Lana grabbed the rest of her things and headed out of the changing area. When she pulled back the curtain she could see Ryan Pearman loitering like a ravenous seagull on the scrounge. He smiled at her – a guilty smile. And Lana realized he must’ve been eavesdropping.

Tosser, she thought.

35

Catrin

‘God, I love you, Catrin Blythe,’ Sol whispered, his eyes closed as he kissed her. The final throes of orgasm made him judder, and, exhausted, he freed himself from their tangle of limbs.

She wanted him to stay there longer, but she didn’t tell him this. He still had his socks on. She was only wearing a bra. They didn’t have sex as much as they used to – and when they did do it, it was perfunctory, no room or inclination for foreplay. Like any couple with a baby, she supposed. Grab it whilst you can! Though compared to some of her similarly aged patients, Catrin was positively nymphomaniacal.

‘They’re definitely bringing the cake in the morning, aren’t they?’ she asked him in the darkness of bedtime.

‘Yes,’ he mumbled, and she could tell he was dropping off. ‘That’s the third time you’ve asked me now, you nutter,’ he said lazily, but there was kindness in his voice.

‘I’m sorry I’m such a handful,’ she said. And she struggled to keep the tears from creeping into her voice.

He turned to her then and kissed her on the nose. ‘You always get like this before a party,’ he said gently.

‘Do I?’

‘Yes.’ He stroked her hair. ‘I think there’s a term for it – “social engagement anxiety” or something.’

‘Serious?’

‘Nooo!’ He laughed. ‘God, you’re gullible! Now roll over and let’s get some kip. You’re gonna need to be on form tomorrow when Judith and Lana start pulling each other’s hair out.’

He was asleep within minutes, leaving Catrin to lie there, eyes open. It wasn’t just Judith and Lana she was worrying about: there was something more pressing that she had to confront. Because time was running out.

Over the past ten years, she had cursed herself relentlessly for ever going on the Pill. All the planning, the prevention – born from a fear of getting pregnant; a fear that would later transform into an all-consuming need. An obsession. Which had nearly cost her their marriage. Catrin had simply assumed she would have babies. Never for one minute did she think it might be a problem. Golden rule in life, Lana used to say, never assume Fuck All. And she was right.