‘I know, but then you showed him up to be the little shit that he is!’

Lana looked at Judith, and Judith looked back.

Then the two of them burst out laughing.

‘Lana, thank you,’ said Judith, unsure of how her thanks would be received. ‘If it wasn’t for you—’

‘I’d be married to a monster!’ shouted Patricia, who was now tucking into a hip flask of whisky, kept ‘for emergencies’ inside her bridal bag.

‘I didn’t really do anything, let’s be honest.’

‘Yes, you did,’ said Catrin. ‘You stopped the whole thing! I was about as useful as a chocolate teabag.’

‘Teapot!!’ shouted Judith and Lana in unison. It’d been years since they’d been able to gang up affectionately on Catrin.

There was a lull in the mood, then Judith took the lead.

‘I’m so sorry. For being such a twat,’ she said.

‘Hey, that’s my role!’ Lana laughed, as usual defaulting to self-effacement.

‘Not today,’ said Judith, smiling gently.

And Lana smiled back. And the smile went some small way towards reclaiming three decades of mislaid friendship.

62

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‘Right then, who’s for a top-up?’ asked Huw Kelly, coming into the living room clutching a newly opened bottle of bubbly, slower on his feet these days. ‘Twenty nineteen is less than an hour away!’

They were gathered at the Kelly house for Liz and Huw’s regular New Year’s Eve bash. It was a much smaller, more conservative occasion than in previous times, but no less fun. Catrin sat with Romy, Huw with Liz, Jack with Dominic, Gareth with Catrin’s brother Tom and his wife; Lana was holding baby Ivy, who was wide awake and enjoying the party, and sitting next to Judith, relaxed on the sofa and dressed up to the nines, was Patricia.

Nine months had passed since the dramatic events at the Coed Celyn register office, but it somehow felt like decades ago.

After the wedding-day-that-never-was, Patricia had taken a turn for the worse, and ended up staying in hospital for a fortnight, after which it was suggested she should go temporarily into sheltered accommodation. They’d thought she would hate the idea, but it turned out to be the making of her. Far from withering and retreating into her shell, Patricia began to thrive in her new environment, taking part in every activity on offer and becoming known in the communal living room as the life and soul of Coed Celyn. She took up poker and in-chair aerobics, joined a book club and the cinema-goers. She’d often claim that life had never been so good, and despite the fact that she had several male admirers, she’d decided to play the field. ‘Treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen!’ When the time came for her to return to the house in Victoria Road, she’d responded with a loud and emphatic, ‘No way.’

It took several months for Adrian Oliver to be charged and found guilty for his intention to defraud. He was given a two-year jail sentence and Steven Dean, his partner in crime as well as in love, was given five years, due to his previous conviction. Tina Grey was given a three-month community-service order, which she described on her Instagram account as ‘cowing disgusting’, accompanied by a series of filtered and pouting selfies. If the plan had gone through, Adrian Oliver, as Patricia’s husband, would have stood to inherit her house and savings.