Padding down to the kitchen, she was relieved that she’d had the foresight to buy butter and a loaf of bread on her way home. This evening was definitely a hot-chocolate-and-toast-in-front-of-the-TV night; a Damian Magill-free night. She felt a wave of relief knowing that he’d still be in Belfast. Maybe going cold turkey for a couple of days would make her stronger. Maybe if she built up enough resistance she could finally knock this whole thing on the head. A tiny spark inside her ignited a small flame of optimism. Tonight was the first night she’d not had a drink in months. And tonight was the first time she’d felt she might be able to give up this awful addiction to this awful man. She smiled and changed channels, hugging her hot-water bottle and taking a big bite of buttered toast.

Five minutes into EastEnders, the doorbell rang.

One of her housemates come home early, no doubt. But then why didn’t they use their key?

She heaved herself up from the sofa and ambled into the hallway. Still clutching her hot-water bottle, she reached out for the latch and opened the door. Standing there smoking, with a six-pack of beer under his arm, was Damian Magill.

‘Nice pyjamas,’ he said, smiling.

23

Catrin

‘Happy New Year!’

‘Yes, Happy New Year!’

‘Blwyddyn Newydd Dda!’

It was the seventh couple they’d passed coming down the mountain as they were making their way up. And the obligatory New Year’s greeting was politely exchanged every time. They thought they’d be the only ones mad enough to climb Pen y Fan on the first morning of 1987, but clearly plenty of others had had the same idea. And they all shared a knowing smile – as if they were part of an elite club, who’d not got drunk the night before and were starting the New Year as they meant to go on, with robust enthusiasm and a spirit of carpe diem.

It had been the best Christmas Catrin had ever had. With Edward and Amelia on a cruise to celebrate their silver wedding, Liz and Huw had insisted that Solomon join them for the holidays. Sol didn’t need asking twice – he loved the Kelly household and had slotted in very easily from the word go. He was quite at home sharing chores with Cat, picking up Grandma Kelly from bingo or the church party, sitting and chatting with Catrin’s brother Tom, who described Sol as ‘solid’. When it came to sleeping arrangements, Liz and Huw had been surprisingly – and disturbingly – laid back about it. ‘You’re in a committed relationship!’ Huw had said, as if quoting from some self-help manual. ‘And we weren’t born yesterday, y’know. Me and your mother know a thing or two about rumpy-pumpy, don’t we, Liz?’ And he’d winked at his wife, and Cat had thought she was going to be sick.

‘Well, exactly. You think we don’t know what you must be getting up to in Cardiff all term?’ said Liz.