The memory of it made Melissa smile, and her face lit up again. The cockles of Grace’s heart were warmed. Ray seemed to have picked well with Melissa. The pair of them might grow to be firm friends, even though they didn’t at first blush appear to have that much in common. But they were married to brothers and they both had little girls the same age. Maybe that was enough to create an initial bond?

‘Have you got a wedding picture?’ chanced Grace, anxious to build on these friendship foundations, but again, Melissa shook her head.

‘There was no one there to take one,’ she said. ‘But it doesn’t matter. I’ve got it all locked up in there.’ She tapped the side of her head. ‘I’ll never forget it.’

‘Yes. Wedding days are so special,’ replied Grace. ‘I was so nervous before mine, worried that things would go wrong, but nothing did.’

‘Did you have a big do, then?’ asked Melissa.

It probably wasn’t politic to tell her exactly how big the wedding of a baroness of the crown could be, but still Grace nodded. ‘Yes. Too big, really, but there were so many people that we had to invite. It all got a bit out of hand.’

Melissa grinned at her. ‘My mate from school, her fiancé announced that everyone was invited to their wedding in the pub one night. Word got around and two hundred people turned up. She’d only got vol-au-vents for seventy and even then she’d told the family to hold back. There was nearly a riot when the food ran out.’

Melissa helped herself to another biscuit and then snapped it in half and put one half back in the packet.

‘You must stop me eating these,’ she said conspiratorially. ‘I never got back to my pre-pregnancy weight. I just can’t seem to shift the pounds. Ray says he doesn’t mind, but I should try a bit harder really. Still, what difference is half a digestive going to make?’

She contemplated the half-biscuit then stuffed it into her mouth in one go. Her mouth wasn’t quite big enough and the edges stuck out at either side. She bit down and biscuit crumbs tumbled into her lap, from where she scooped them up and popped them into her mouth in one smooth movement.

‘You’re nice and slim, though, pet,’ Melissa added. ‘What’s your secret?’

A decade of watching what she ate and punishing herself with Jane Fonda tapes, Grace wanted to say, but she actually replied, ‘Good genes, I suppose.’

‘Lucky,’ said Melissa. ‘My mum was like a little barrel on legs. It was only the smoking that kept her thin. I suppose I’ve inherited her shape. She’s not dead, like. She ran off to Cornwall. We don’t really keep in touch.’

‘Do you miss her?’ asked Grace.