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‘Oh god.’ I look around. ‘Speeches already? I’m not drunk enough. Where’s Aunt Caro with that hip flask?’

‘Here.’ Freddy grabs a Prosecco bottle from a passing waiter.

‘This is for the top table only,’ the waiter protests.

Freddy hands the waiter a fifty-pound note with a tired look. ‘Take a walk to Aldi or Lidl or wherever this cheap crap came from and keep the £45 change.’

The waiter nods and scurries away.

Freddy looks around. ‘Darling, you need a glass.’

‘No, I don’t.’ I grab the bottle and take a long swig. ‘This counts as a reasonable portion size today.’

‘Greetings, wedding guests.’ Chris’s theatrical voice booms across the clearing. ‘I want to kick off this celebration by apologising to my former fiancée, Kat. Sorry about falling madly in love with Minola here!’

Gentle laughter drifts around the clearing as if this is a perfectly acceptable joke.

My heart clenches.

‘Kat, where are you?’ Chris looks around. ‘Ah! There.’

Cool humiliation works its way around my stomach, as everyone turns in my direction. I try to hold myself with quiet dignity, but that isn’t possible because I’m halfway through swigging a Prosecco bottle.

‘Here’s to Kat.’ Chris raises his tumbler. ‘There’s no friend like an old friend.’

The word ‘old’ feels like a punch in the face.

‘Thanks, Chris.’ I raise my bottle. ‘Here’s to your wedding.’

‘And here’s toyourwedding, Kat.’ Chris gives me a lopsided smile. ‘It’s one of your life goals, isn’t it? Married before you the age of 35?’ He turns to the crowd. ‘Kat told me that the first night we met!’

Minola’s friends and family roar with laughter.

‘I also told you I would start a publishing company and buy a house in Bloomsbury,’ I shout back. ‘Both of which I did –’

‘Wait, there’s more!’ Chris roars, clearly pleased with the audience’s reaction. ‘Katalsotold me she wanted two children, and that marriage was to make sure I wouldn’t run away and leave her as a single mother.Stillon thefirstnight we met!’

Helpless laughter.

‘But you’re right about marriage, Kat.’ Chris turns serious and grabs Minola’s hand. ‘It’s a great thing to do. And even if you don’t manageyourlife goal, kitty cat, I’m glad you’re here to celebrate with us.’

My knuckles turn white around the Prosecco bottle. ‘I might still get married this year, Chris. You never know.’

‘Wow, Kat.’ Chris shakes his head. ‘Drunk already. I like your style.’

‘I’m not drunk.’ I lean to place the Prosecco bottle on an upright log, but my left leg chooses that moment to throw itself out and …

Ooof!

I fall, Prosecco bottle rolling, spilling and fizzing on the woodland floor.

White-grey sky drifts above me, and I feel twigs, pebbles and dried leaves under various sore body parts.

Ouch.

‘She’s not drunk, everyone!’ Chris’s voice soars over me, accompanied by shrieks of laughter. Then Freddy’s concerned face comes into view. He grabs my hand with the certainty and force of a blood pressure cuff and pulls me to my feet.

‘What was that all about, darling?’ he asks. ‘You’re not drunk. You only had three swigs of Prosecco.’