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‘Well, on the edge.’

‘Yes, but still.’ They looked at me admiringly. ‘And what are you doing now?’ demanded Kay, rather pointedly.

‘Oh, this and that,’ I said uncomfortably. ‘What about you, Kay?’ I said quickly. ‘Still, um…’ I mentally scrolled down my school-leavers archive, ‘nursing?’

‘Yes, but not in hospitals any more. It doesn't really work with kids. I'm a practice nurse. You know, in Ludworth?’

The next village. So perhaps I should. Perhaps Caro should have told me. When I'd asked. I smiled nervously. ‘Right.’

‘And I'm on the Parish Council too,’ she informed me. ‘For my sins.’

‘Sounds fun,’ I said politely.

She made a sour face. ‘Think Vicar of Dibley without the humour.’

I laughed, and through the years caught a flash of wit I'd enjoyed when our desks had adjoined long ago. I wondered vaguely what they were doing here, these women, then remembered with a jolt they were also Jack's godparents. It occurred to me that none of Anna's godparents stemmed from my school days. They were all friends Ant and I had met together. Well, not quite true. They were Ant's friends, from Westminster, or Balliol. Not Parsonage Road Comprehensive. I wondered, uneasily, what that said about me. That I'd simply moved on? Or reinvented myself? Didn't sound very nice.

Across the other side of the room I noticed Tim standing awkwardly by the fireplace, resting one leg, his hand gripping the mantel. He'd had a hip replacement a couple of months ago after years of pain, which was supposed to make a new man of him. I thought he looked worse. I'd have loved a quick chat, but Caro, looking harassed, swept by with a plate of egg sandwiches and I realized I should offer to help. But that would mean circulating, and I'd already spotted Neville Carter's parents in the other room, which would mean talking to them and… oh, for heaven's sake, Evie.

I seized the plate of sandwiches from Caro's startled hand and marched across the hall into the small magnolia dining room. It doubled as the children's homework room, and had been hastily cleared of files and papers, which were stacked in a chaotic fashion by the piano, the table requisitioned for drinks. I'd briefly glimpsed the Carters in here earlier, before Paula had claimed me. They were clutching an orange juice apiece and still had their coats on, looking rather temporary. And so old, I thought with a lurch as I greeted them. To my relief, Mrs Carter smiled.

‘Evelyn.’ Her face relaxed. ‘How are you, dear?’

‘I'm fine thanks, and you? Hi there, Mr Carter.’

He nodded wordlessly at me, shaking his head as I offered him a sandwich. Much less friendly, I thought, my chest tightening.

‘Oh, you know, we keep busy. Our Eileen's married now, of course. She's pregnant too. Expecting in March, did you know?’

‘I didn't! How marvellous.’

‘And the garden keeps us very busy.’

The garden. Yes, away from children and on to flowers. Good idea.

‘Yes, Caro says you had a terrific display of bulbs this year,’ I blurted. She hadn't, but bulbs were safe, surely?

She frowned. ‘Oh, no, we just did primulas this spring. Perhaps she meant the snowdrops?’

‘That's it.’ I faltered. ‘Snowdrops.’

‘The garden's been a great comfort to us,’ Mr Carter said quietly.

‘Yes.’ I caught my breath. ‘I can imagine. Although,’ I went on bravely, ‘no, I can't really imagine at all.’

There was a silence. Mrs Carter put a hand on my arm. ‘Well, you had a sadness too, dear. You lost your dad.’

I smiled, acknowledging her graciousness. Losing a parent was ghastly, of course it was. But it wasn't the same as losing a child.

Happily Mrs Pallister from next door approached and I took it as my cue to remove myself, and my plate of egg sandwiches, from the Carters' presence. There. I'd done it. I felt a wave of relief. Then shame at the relief. And instead of going back to the sitting room I went down the passage to the kitchen, ostensibly to refuel my plate, but actually, to take a moment.

The kitchen still looked pretty much as