The little Wimborne restaurant is packed for a Thursday night, ringing with the clink of glasses and the scrape of silverware, the chatter and laughter of people enjoying themselves. Our glamorous group of women takes up one long table down the side. I didn’t realise there would be so many of us here tonight. We all went to the same school, the majority of us in the same year. It’s lovely to see everyone again, to be my old self. I feel like I’ve been out of the loop for ages, even though it’s only been six months since I had Daisy.

My heart sinks as someone else arrives late, her sleek, auburn bob swinging as she sits opposite me and lays her purse by her feet. She turns to talk to Pia, who’s sitting on her left.

I elbow Mel. ‘You didn’t tell me Tamsin Price would be coming,’ I hiss.

‘That’s because I knew you wouldn’t come if I said anything.’

‘Too bloody right. Anyway, I thought she was living in Surrey now. Has she come back just for tonight?’

‘No,’ Mel says sheepishly. ‘She moved back to Wimborne this year.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me she was back?’ She’s the last person I expected to see here tonight. Back when we were in our late teens, Tamsin tried to steal Dominic away from me. They had a drunken one night stand, after which she pretended to be pregnant. It took Dom over six months to win me back, but now the sight of Tamsin Price has brought all those ancient feelings rushing back.

‘Just ignore her,’ Mel says under her breath.

‘That’s a bit hard when she’s sitting right opposite me.’

Mel screws up her face in sympathy. ‘I know. Of all the places she could sit, that’s pretty bad luck.’

‘Swap places with me?’

‘I would, Kirst, but Sooz wants to talk to me about something important. I think she’s having marriage problems. I said we’d have a chat about it tonight, seeing as how I’m highly experienced in the area of tosser ex-husbands.’ She grins.

I sigh. ‘Okay. Never mind.’ At that moment I catch Tamsin’s eye and she gives me a disdainful nod. I give her a tight-lipped smile, and then we proceed to ignore each other.

As it turns out, most of the evening is spent reminiscing with everyone about funny incidents and awful teachers. Everyone – apart from Tamsin of course – teases me about the fact I’m now a teacher in our old school. Mel was right to make me come. I’m having a good time, even though my mind keeps straying to how Dominic and Daisy are getting on at home, trying not to check my texts every five seconds for possible news that the child abductors have returned. I need to stop worrying, and concentrate more on enjoying myself.

Another friend, Penny, sits on my left. She’s also a new mum, like me. We weren’t that close at school, but I always liked her. After a good twenty minutes chatting about motherhood, Penny leans back in her chair.

‘We’re so pathetic, Kirstie,’ she says, twirling a dark strand of hair around her finger. ‘All we’ve done all evening is talk about missing our babies. When did we get so boring?’ Penny is a party planner, but she admits it’s more of a hobby than anything else. Her husband is an investment banker and they’re absolutely loaded, with a huge country pile, a fleet of 4x4s and staff, including a nanny.

‘We’re first-time mums,’ I laugh. ‘We’re allowed to be boring and brag about our beautiful babies.’

‘You’re right.’ She raises her glass. ‘To our beautiful babies.’ She clinks her glass violently against mine. ‘Oops, sorry,’ she giggles. ‘Bit pissed. Why are you still sober, anyway?’

‘Breast feeding,’ I reply, sipping my mineral water.

‘Ooh, you’re good. I couldn’t do it. Too painful and far too restricting.’

‘I was lucky Daisy took to it so well. If she hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have carried on. I hear it can be excruciating.’

‘Yep, like little needles.’

‘Ouch!’

We look at each other and start laughing.

‘Must go to the loo,’ she says. ‘Back in a mo.’

I turn to talk to Mel, but she’s deep in conversation with Sooz, who’s dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. I can’t interrupt what appears to be a heavy conversation.

Opposite, it looks like Tamsin is also between conversations. We catch one another’s eye. She raises her chin and slides her gaze away, blatantly ignoring me. Should I pull out my phone and pretend to reply to imaginary texts? No. I’ve had enough of this. I don’t know why she’s got a problem with me. After what she did, I should be the one to hate her. I lean forward a little and address Tamsin directly, trying to be friendly. ‘You’ve got children now, haven’t you?’

She raises her eyes in surprise. I wonder if she’ll blank me.

‘Yeah, a boy and a girl,’ she says, staring down at her French-manicured nails, her rose-gold watch glinting under the lights.

‘How old are they?’

‘Eli is eight and McKenna is six.’ Her tone is bored, disinterested.

‘I’ve got a six month old – Daisy.’

She raises her eyebrows again. This time in acknowledgement.

‘Yeah,’ I struggle on, wondering why I’m even bothering. ‘I’m on maternity leave at the moment, but I’m kind of dreading going back to work after half term. It’ll be so hard to leave her.’

‘I can’t imagine leaving my kids while I go out to work,’ Tamsin says. ‘Having someone else raise them. I wouldn’t like that at all.’

I know she’s just baiting me, but her words sting.

‘Some of us don’t have a choice,’ I reply.

She shrugs.

‘Look, Tamsin,’ I say, leaning forward slightly. ‘Why don’t we forget about everything that’s gone on in the past? It was all a long time ago. It’s stupid to fall out over a boy.’ I make a lame joke to try to ease the tension.

‘I don’t think so,’ she says icily. ‘It might have been in the past, Kirstie, but I’m not about to forget it all and suddenly be your best friend.’

I shake my head, unable to believe she can be so hostile towards me. Maybe she really did love Dom. Maybe she still does. ‘I wasn’t suggesting we be best friends,’ I reply. ‘I just thought we could move on, be civil, you know?’

‘You might have Dom now,’ she says with a sneer, ‘but it doesn’t mean you can have everything you want. And these are my friends too.’

‘Fine.’ I reach into my purse and pull out my phone – fake replying to fake texts will be an easy way to end this conversation. I’m done trying to mend fences with her. I must have been mad to even try. Tamsin was the one in the wrong, but it seems she doesn’t care. She never apologised about any of it but tonight I had the rash thought that it might be better for us to be polite to one another. Obviously, I was wrong. Now I’m faced with the discomfort of evil looks from Queen Bitchface for the rest of the evening.

Her earlier words still bug me. I wish I could afford to stay home and be with my daughter all day, but it’s out of the question. We need my wage. Anyway, I love my job and I’m sure I’ll get used to being a working mum – plenty of people do.

On the other side of me, Mel signals to the waiter to bring another bottle of wine. I push away the niggle that money is tight and try not to stress about how expensive the bill is going to be. But it’s hard not to resent the fact that my friends always split the bill evenly, even when some of us aren’t drinking.

The evening rolls past pleasantly enough, and at 10.30 p.m. the waiter brings the bill.

Mel taps me on the shoulder. ‘Having a good time?’

‘Yeah, good. You?’

She lays her head on my shoulder and I laugh at her drunken state. ‘You’re my best friend ever,’ she says. ‘I hope you know that.’

‘You too,’ I reply.

She waggles her finger at me. ‘Best friend. Right here.’ She gets to her feet and dings her glass with a spoon. Pointing down at my head with spoon, she proclaims to the table and the few other diners who are left in the restaurant, ‘I want you all to know that I love you all, but Kirstie is my best friend in the whole world.’

Everyone says, ‘aaah’ and laughs.

Mel sits down heavily on her chair again and whispers in my ear. ‘Kirst, I just realised I’ve left my purse at home. Can you pay for my share and I’ll give it back to you tomorrow? Thanks, hon.’

My smile vanishes and I grit my teeth. ‘Sure, I’ll put it on my card.’

‘Lifesaver.’

‘You will pay me back though, Mel? It’s just, Dom and I are a bit strapped at the moment.’

‘Relax. Pay you back tomorrow. It’s not a problem.’

Easy for you to say. I always seem to be lending Mel money, which she keeps forgetting to pay back. I love her to bits but she’s terrible with finances. She’s usually spent the maintenance check from her ex before she gets it. Her problem is she’s a hopeless shopaholic. But I don’t want to get all judgemental. I don’t want this to tarnish our friendship.

‘Hate to ask again,’ she says, ‘but could I borrow a teensy bit more for the taxi home?’

‘That’s okay,’ I say, ‘you can share a taxi with me.’

‘Thing is, that hot waiter has asked me to go clubbing with him.’ Mel nods in the direction of a fair-haired waiter, who looks about eighteen.

‘Are you serious?’ I ask.

‘I know, right. Looks like I’ve still got it, hon.’

I shake my head and can’t help grinning at her. ‘Who’s babysitting?’

‘Jess Slater. She said not to worry if I’m late.’

‘Yeah, but she’s only just turned fifteen. Don’t be too late, Mel, it’s a school night.’ Jess is the middle one of three sisters who live next door to me at number three. Her stepdad, Stephen Parkfield, is the headmaster at St George’s, the school where I teach.

‘Jess’ll be fine,’ Mel insists.

‘Yeah, Jess’ll be fine, but you know what Lorna’s like. She won’t be happy if you rock up at 2 a.m.’ Lorna is Jess’s mum. She was in the year above us at school.

‘Miss hoity-toity I’m-married-to-the headmaster,’ Mel sneers.

‘She’s all right,’ I say, sticking up for her.

‘No she’s not,’ Mel says. ‘She’s a snobby cow. You know she is.’

‘I dunno, I think she’s just shy and a bit awkward.’ Lorna and her first husband split up when their daughters were young. It can’t have been easy for her with three young girls. She met Stephen Parkfield soon after, and they married almost straight away.

‘Wouldn’t hurt her to crack a smile every once in a while,’ Mel says.

‘Just try to get home by midnight.’ Even as I’m saying the words, I know there’s no chance Mel will be back by then.

‘You’re such a stresser,’ she says, squeezing my hand.

‘Honestly, Mel. I’m just looking out for you.’

‘I know you are, hon. I know.’

I have to stop worrying about her. It’s her life, not mine.

‘So, can I borrow some extra cash, then?’ Mel asks again.

‘I’ve only got enough for my taxi home,’ I say. ‘I’ll have to go to the cashpoint.’

‘Thank yooou!’ She kisses my cheek and drags me to my feet. ‘Let’s pay the bill and go there now.’

Eventually, we all say our goodbyes, promising to meet up again soon, and I slide into my taxi, leaving Mel at the bar while her hot waiter finishes his shift. I don’t know how she manages it, but men are always drawn to her. Trouble is, they never end up sticking around.

The cab journey home is smooth and quick, the driver thankfully untalkative, my mind pleasantly vacant. I stifle a yawn as we pull into Magnolia Close and I point out my house. I’m looking forward to holding Daisy in my arms and giving her a feed. It feels as though I’ve been away for days.

As I step out of the cab and close the door, I see the Parkfields’ curtains twitch. I bet it’s Lorna assuming Mel’s back too. She’ll probably be expecting Jess home any minute. I toy with the idea of knocking on her door, letting her know that Mel won’t be home until later, but instantly dismiss the thought – I don’t want to get involved in that drama.

The taxi has gone, and I realise I’m still standing on the driveway. I give myself a shake. But as I begin walking down the path, I notice that something is off. I frown into the dark patch of garden that lies between the porch light and the streetlight. Suddenly, I realise what it is – the plants and flowers in one of the front borders have been flattened. I take a few steps closer and peer into the flower bed. It’s as though someone has stomped on all the poor plants, grinding the leaves and petals off their stalks so they’re now trampled into the dry earth. Did someone do this on purpose? Why would they do such a thing? Could it have been kids?

But my questions fade as I hear a distant noise – a baby crying. Not just crying, but screaming. Daisy! She sounds hysterical. Bloody Dominic. What’s he doing? Why isn’t he comforting her? Or maybe he is trying to soothe her but she’s crying with hunger and it’s my fault for staying out too late.

I run down the drive and along the path, fumble with my keys in the lock and stagger into the hallway. The lounge door is open and the TV is on. I see the back of Dom’s head. Why is he sitting in there, when Daisy is screaming her lungs out?

‘Dom!’ I march into the lounge.

He opens his eyes. ‘Eh?’

‘Were you asleep?’ I snap, noting the open windows.

‘Yeah, must’ve nodded off.’

‘Your daughter is screaming her head off up there.’

‘What?’ He jumps to his feet and frowns. ‘No she’s not.’

I tilt my head to listen. Sure enough, she’s quieted down. ‘Well, she was a second ago.’ I glare at him, stomp out of the room and race up the stairs, hoping to God she’s okay, wishing I had never gone out. I stride into our darkened bedroom and peer into the Moses basket, ready to scoop Daisy into my arms.

But it’s empty. Daisy isn’t there.