She could hardly say no.

‘OK, but Gareth’ll be here in a minute. We need to get back on the road,’ she said to Mrs Kelly Senior.

There was a little bench in the front garden partly shaded by two potted olive trees. It’d been there as long as Judith could remember. When they were fourteen, she, Lana and Catrin all carved their initials into the back of it. Liz Kelly had told them off when she found out, calling the three of them ‘mindless vandals’. Though, as ever, she did it with a smile.

‘Sit yourself down there, now,’ instructed Huw Kelly. ‘In the middle, with her highness.’ Romy sat comfortably on Judith’s lap, happily playing with the coloured beads that hung around her neck. ‘And Tom,’ he said to Sol’s brother, ‘you stand behind with Catrin.’

‘Make sure it’s in focus, Dad,’ said Catrin, watching as her father fiddled with the camera.

With her free hand, Judith reached back and ran her fingers along the ageing wood. Fainter now after years’ worth of Welsh weather-battering, but still there – CK, LL, JH and the date 1982. Just when the Falklands War began. She recalled how they’d all panicked that the world was coming to an end and they wanted somehow to make their mark on history. To be remembered. Even if it was just on the back of an old garden bench.

Huw Kelly disturbed her reverie. ‘Ah, and now we have a full complement!’ he said, and Judith realized he was talking about Lana, who was walking towards them. Her stomach lurched. If it wasn’t for Romy sat firmly on her lap, she would probably have bolted.

Neither Judith nor Lana could possibly ignore each other now.

‘Judith,’ Lana nodded, unable to look her in the eye.

‘All right?’ she mumbled in reply, aware that she sounded like a petulant teenager.

Clearly aware of the tension, the others went out of their way to compensate for the awkwardness with forced jollity.

‘Right, Lana, let’s have you sat on the bench next to Jude. Godmothers together, isn’t it?’

This is awful, thought Judith.

She sat politely and obediently as Huw took a series of photos, but inside she was squirming. Thankfully, Catrin finally intervened. ‘OK, Dad, that’s enough for now!’

‘For sure,’ he smiled. ‘Now, Tom, how about you and me go and round up the two families so we can get a nice group shot.’

‘Aye, good idea.’

‘I’ll go,’ said Lana.

‘I don’t mind getting them,’ Judith simultaneously offered.

‘Sit,’ ordered Catrin, with an authority Judith seldom heard in her.

She watched as Huw and Tom Blythe disappeared into the house, leaving the three of them in excruciating silence. Thank God for Romy and her obliviousness, she thought.

Eventually Catrin spoke.

‘So.’

No one responded.

‘I’ve been trying to engineer this for eighteen years.’

‘You shouldn’t have bothered,’ said Lana, focusing all her concentration on Romy. ‘You had no right.’

‘Hey Lana,’ said Catrin. ‘Guess what? You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do at my own daughter’s christening. Now at least do me the courtesy of acknowledging each other’s existence.’