‘Think I’d have preferred Armageddon,’ said Sol gently as they sat in the A&E cubicle waiting for the X-ray results.

They had no option other than to cancel their anniversary party, deciding to have one for their thirtieth instead, in five years’ time.

It had seemed like an eternity away back then, and yet here it was upon them. She knew she sounded like her mother, but didn’t time just fly! In less than a week they would be welcoming eighty friends and family to join them at Montgomery Hall for a posh sit-down dinner, twenty-nine and a half years after they’d celebrated their wedding there.

They’d decided to have it six months early mainly because the weather in June would be more conducive to partying. But also because Montgomery Hall was already booked up right through December with Christmas celebrations.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll whisk you away for our actual anniversary,’ Sol said. ‘Paris or Rome. For a dirty weekend.’

‘Are we allowed to be dirty at our age?’

‘I should bloody well hope so,’ he said with a laugh.

A party, whenever it was held, would mean facing the usual stress of having Lana and Judith in the same room together, but this was the norm nowadays and had been for years. And, of course, there was always the tiniest possibility that this party would be the one; this party would be the occasion on which her two best friends finally reconciled.

No time to think about it now though. She had to get on with morning surgery.

Looking down at her patient list, she spotted a name she always dreaded seeing: Patricia Harris.

When Catrin and Solomon had first become Coed Celyn’s new GPs, she’d accepted she would sometimes have to treat patients she knew personally, including people she’d grown up with or parents of school friends and the like. But although Patricia Harris was registered at the surgery, she never seemed to require any medical attention apart from the odd prescription for antibiotics, and on those occasions Catrin had always managed to avoid treating her. It wasn’t that she held any bad feelings towards Patricia, she just always dreaded seeing her in case she began ranting about Judith.

In the intervening years since Patricia’s catastrophic appearance at George’s funeral, Catrin had seen Judith’s anger towards her mother gradually subside, until their relationship was reduced to a threadbare, needs-must connection. Their only contact comprised an annual visit by Judith and the occasional phone call, neither of which were appreciated by Patricia and which usually resulted in Judith wishing she’d not bothered.

Catrin always treated Patricia with professional courtesy when their paths did cross, but age had not mellowed Mrs Harris, and she’d become more dramatic than ever. Whenever she saw Catrin in and around Coed Celyn, she always made such a big, loud show of talking to her, usually about very inappropriate subjects. And then would begin the maligning of Catrin’s best friend. Which she just couldn’t handle. So avoidance really was the best option.