‘Bit more hair back then, Cal,’ observed Karen, a tad bitchily. She passed it over to me to hold, returning to the cigarette she’d left burning on the edge of my expensive garden table. I wondered when she’d started smoking again.

Karen and I were in the photo too, our arms around each other’s necks, drunken smiles on our fresh, badly made-up faces. We’d met earlier that day, standing in line in Boswell’s department store with toasters in our arms, me reeling with relief that Mum and Dad had left early to beat the traffic and I could unpack my room alone. 1993. A lifetime ago.

‘Who’s that?’ said Mike, peering over my shoulder and tapping the iPad – ‘Fingers,’ Callum grumbled. ‘Oh.’

There was silence as we realised who else was in the shot, in the background, her white-blonde hair rippling down her back, laughing at someone out of frame. Martha Rasby. Martha. Her name seemed to sit in my mouth like a stone. All these years later and I still couldn’t say it without wincing.

‘She was so beautiful, wasn’t she,’ said Jodi. ‘Such a shame.’ No one else said anything.

‘Time for bed, Benj,’ I said, as his head dropped forward. It was dark in the garden now, and Mike had lit citronella candles using Bill’s lighter, and the pool of light surrounded us, the shadows and rustles of the garden closing in. Just like that other night, so many years ago.

‘Mu-um.’ Despite his protests, he stood up willingly enough.

‘I’ll see him to bed and then I’ll bring out coffee, if anyone wants.’ I pushed myself to my feet, reluctantly, feeling the wine pull me down, like diving weights on my ankles.

Jodi shook her head. Her face was white in the dark. ‘I might go up to bed too, if no one minds. This little one is kicking me like a football.’

‘Want me to come, Jodes?’

I thought Callum said it too quickly. As if he knew the reply would be, as it was, ‘Oh no, you stay. I’ll be asleep in minutes anyway.’

‘No coffee for me,’ said Karen, whose legs were propped on Bill’s chair, her bare feet brushing his thighs. ‘I’m quite enjoying this drunken haze. Reminds me of uni.’

Mike agreed. ‘Leave it, Al. Benji can put himself to bed, he’s ten now.’

‘I need to check he does his teeth.’ Really, I wanted to make a start on clearing up. The mountain of dishes was daunting and I already knew I’d be hungover the next day.

Cassie stood too. ‘I’m going up to bed too, Mum. Might watch a bit of Netflix.’

‘What about you, Jakey?’ I asked, trying to be kind. I knew how it was to be spotty and shy, to always feel left out.

‘I’m going to my tent.’