Caris Smith gave one slow, determined nod of her head, stiffly turned around and began hobbling back into the crowd.

Alice was the first to start clapping. Becky, who had appeared on the other side at some point, was second, swiftly followed by Luke.

By the time the cheers had subsided, Alice had come up with a plan.

‘Right. The first meeting of the Rebuilding Committee will be next Sunday evening at seven. At the Damson Farm barn, so none of you can gripe about sides before we’ve even got started. Ziva Solomon and me’ll be co-chairs. There’ll be a zero-tolerance policy for anyone who turns up with any goal in mind that isn’t saving this village.’

‘Will you start a Facebook group?’ someone called out.

‘No, I bloody won’t!’ Alice shouted back. ‘I’ve got a pub to run, I ain’t got time to waste policing the cesspit of social media.’

‘Free drinks on the house to celebrate?’ someone else cried.

‘Free drinks all round!’ Alice grinned. ‘Once the bridge is officially open and you can walk across to the Old Boat House to fetch them!’

28

On Monday, Luke arrived to start renovating the bathrooms while Becky and I worked on research and costings for various garden designs in the living room. It wasn’t the most productive of days, given that one half of Team Damson was in charge of a baby who’d just learnt how to pull herself up using the furniture, and the other half spent most of it staring into space, jumping out of her seat every time a particularly loud thud came through the ceiling.

Tuesday we spent trawling through local garden centres, Hope safely in her pushchair, and Wednesday Daniel took the afternoon off while Becky and I redrafted the plans to fit with the various sale items that we couldn’t resist buying, despite not being on the list.

Becky managed a whole two-minute conversation with Luke without spilling the tea she’d brought him or tripping over anything. Unfortunately, that resulted in even more swoony staring at the ceiling, and even less work done. I almost went upstairs and asked him out on her behalf, but I suspected that would make her worse.

Thursday, Becky messaged to say that something had come up and she wouldn’t be in that day. I didn’t ask what, but it had to be a big something if it meant missing her daily dose of Luke. That made me feel slightly less peeved that she wouldn’t be there today of all days. I hadn’t said anything, but it was my birthday. My thirtieth. And while I hadn’t wanted to make a big deal out of it, I had planned us a nice lunch to celebrate, and had even invited Alice to join us.

She sent me another message a minute later:

Alice said to tell you she can’t come either.

What? How did Becky even know Alice was invited? The thought that they’d been having cosy conversations without me somehow made my disappointment even worse.