Every time the anxiety started revving up again, I reminded myself of Charlie, and what she would have thought about it. I was certain that had she been here, she’d have been standing right beside me at the kitchen table, sleeves rolled up and face glowing.

The event was scheduled for 7 p.m. until 9. At 6.55, I added the last platter of cinnamon apple turnovers to the trestle tables lining one side of the barn. The lights were on, the heaters were blasting, and Becky and I were dressed in claret-coloured dresses to match the fruit themed décor (sprigs of dried flowers stuffed in milk bottles tied with red twine, red and green striped table runners, and strings of paper apples and plums draped from the rafters. Becky had even created a Damson Farm logo, thin, dark red text winding around a damson tree, which she’d blown up onto a massive poster and stuck on the back wall).

At one minute past seven, Ziva arrived, arm in arm with Becky’s dad, closely followed by four of their friends. At two minutes past, Alice texted to say that she was on her way. At three minutes past, I was hiding behind the barn, bent over with my hands on my knees while trying not to throw up.

What the hell had I done?

Then I heard feet scrunching in the gravel behind me and a strong, warm hand gripped my elbow.

‘Come on,’ Daniel said, his breath warm against my neck. ‘Becky’s wondering where you are.’

‘I just need a minute,’ I said, breathing slowly to avoid retching in front of him.

‘No, you need to get back to your event. Any second now someone from the New Side is going to turn up and you need to be there to provide the voice of reason.’

‘Can’t you do that?’

‘This is your night, Eleanor. I’m not about to steal your glory.’ He twizzled me around to face him, taking one look at my stricken expression before pulling me into the warmth of his soft jacket, my face buried against his shoulder, his arms gently wrapped around me. ‘You’ll be fine. I’ve got your back. If it comes to it, Becky, Ziva, Alice, Luke… your back’s not that big.’ He gave it a friendly pat, as if to prove it. ‘We can cover it.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me this was a terrible idea, and ban me from using your barn?’ I mumbled into his shoulder, wishing I could simply stay there.

‘Because it’s not.’ I could feel him smiling against my hair. How could one moment be so full of horror and so deliciously lovely all at the same time?

‘If it was a good idea, someone else would have tried it. No one else is stupid enough to invite the whole village to a joint event, as if all that’s needed is a teensy cup of cider and a piece of plum cake and everyone will live happily ever after.’