‘They’re not mine. Think they must’ve belonged to Becky’s gran. But yeah, I love gardening. Used to help my dad out at the allotment all the time. I still do, when I go home.’

Well, this day just gets weirder.

Meanwhile, Alex and Alice are sitting at a faded wooden picnic table. It’s worn smooth and silver with age.

‘Come and join us,’ says Alex, patting the bench beside him. I slide myself into the narrow gap and sit down, not too close to him, and look at Alice. She seems perfectly composed, sitting with her hands folded neatly in front of her, a glass of Rob’s wine half drunk on the table.

Well, I think. This is going to be a bit of an awkward afternoon.

‘Pimm’s, anyone?’ says Becky, in a sing-song voice.

‘God, yes,’ I say, falling on a glass with as much enthusiasm as one of our marathon runners at the support table reaching for water. I take a slightly too-large sip and cough.

But of course, we’re British, and what we do best is awkward, slightly stilted social gatherings. Rob insists there’s more than enough food for everyone, so we spend a perfectly polite and charming evening around the battered old garden table celebrating Alex’s not-wedding with the wife that never was.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Jess

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jess

28th June

‘It’s lovely to hear you,’ says Nanna. Her voice makes me smile as I walk along the narrow road towards Pimlico, where we’re meeting for a wedding dress trying-on session. Gen’s supposed to be meeting me at Starbucks, but she’s texting a series of updates from the bus she’s on, which seems to be stuck behind some sort of impromptu protest march. Her messages beep in my ear as I talk to Nanna and walk.

‘So what’s happening with you?’

‘I’m off to play dressing up with the girls.’

‘Ooh, lovely. Has she set a date?’ Nanna loves a wedding – and a funeral. In fact she loves any sort of occasion where you can dress up and wear a nice hat. I step off the pavement to make way for a man carrying two buckets filled with flowers, then step back hastily as a black cab beeps loudly.

‘No, she hasn’t set a date – it’s most un-Sophie-like. I’m not sure what she’s doing.’

‘That doesn’t sound like her at all.’

‘It’s the baby stuff. I think she’s all over the place, trying to plan something that can’t be planned and it’s making her computer brain malfunction.’

‘Babies come when they’re ready,’ says Nanna Beth, soothingly.

‘So everyone keeps telling her. She’s threatened to behead the next person who tells her to relax.’

‘It’s not really Sophie’s thing, is it?’