‘I’m still a bit cross you invited me to the café under false pretences yesterday.’ Bridget plonked two mugs of coffee by our parents’ bed, while I rummaged through Mum’s wardrobe for a suitable outfit to wear to a winter wedding.

‘It wasn’t really false pretences.’ I pulled out a salmon-pink pleated skirt and matching bolero jacket and held them against me. ‘I wanted you to see what I’ve been doing there. You haven’t set foot in the café since you came home.’

‘To be fair, I hadn’t been further than the shops and the park before that meal with Seth.’ She sat on the bed and pulled the quilted cover over her nightshirt like a shawl. ‘I’d practically forgotten how to drive.’

‘Well, I’m flattered you made the effort.’

‘Only, you left out the bit about Seth and Jack being there.’

‘I told you, I thought it would be a nice surprise for you all.’

‘While you scarpered off, once you’d made me check the floorboard batches matched.’

‘I told you, I needed to go to Kingsbridge to find something to wear for today,’ I said.

‘You clearly didn’t find anything.’ She gave Mum’s outfit a thumbs down.

‘Nope.’ I didn’t mention that I hadn’t tried very hard.

After I’d promised a glowering Gwen the floorboards would be down for the party, I’d retreated to my car to call Cassie, who promised to ask Danny whether he knew anyone who could help.

‘It’s urgent,’ I said, deciding not to beat about the bush, and there was a pause during which I imagined her biting her lip, trying not to extract any more promises.

‘I’ve been throwing up all morning,’ she said at last, sounding almost proud. ‘It’s getting harder to keep being pregnant a secret. I had to tell the mayoress I’d eaten some dodgy shrimp.’

‘Why shrimp?’

‘It was the first thing that popped into my head.’

After that, I’d gone to Kingsbridge with the intention of buying an outfit in Boutique 144, but after trying on a couple of dresses and trouser suits that made me feel more giraffe than human, I gave up and went swimming instead, and emerged from the water feeling, if not reborn, then at least less frazzled.

‘You can’t wear that,’ said Bridget, as if she was on the front row at London Fashion Week. ‘Too frumpy.’ She had a glow about her again that I doubted was purely down to Romy having a lie-in. When I’d got back after swimming, they’d been snuggled together on the sofa watching Miracle on 34th Street, while a decent-looking casserole bubbled on the stove. She’d told me off for ‘setting her up’ with Seth, but admitted they’d had a nice time.

‘Even the dog was cute,’ she’d said, though apparently Gwen hadn’t been thrilled at having to shut Dickens out the back, in case ’e gets ’is ’ead bitten orf. ‘She’s hilarious,’ Bridget had declared. ‘She burnt her bleedin’ eyebrows off, trying to light a Christmas pudding.’ Her impression of Gwen’s cockney accent and gimlet-eyed stare had made me chuckle.

‘Witch!’ Romy had piped up, provoking more laughter. It wasn’t the first time a child had mistaken Gwen for one of Grimms’ fairy tale crones.

According to Bridget, they’d walked through the village with Seth and Jack after their hot chocolate (she didn’t like the beach in winter) and bought some cranberry and orange cookies from the bakery. No one had mobbed Seth, though he’d got a few curious looks, and Romy had insisted that Jack hold her hand. ‘He’s really sweet,’ had been Bridget’s verdict. ‘A credit to Seth.’

I’d supposed it was natural to say that, as Seth was Jack’s father, but considering he hadn’t spent much time with his son until recently, I’d wondered privately how much Jack’s influences with his grandparents had shaped him. It was clear the effect of living with them still had a grip – and that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing – but hopefully a slackening of Felicity’s rules, and being around his dad, would bring a simpler joy into his life. I was sure it already had, even if neither of them had quite recognised it yet.

I’d longed to quiz Bridget on what she and Seth had talked about, and to ask whether he was surprised when I didn’t join them (clearly he hadn’t minded too much) but had managed to hold back.

‘What about this?’ I pulled a charcoal pencil skirt over my pyjama leggings. It was so tight around the hem it altered my gait to an undignified mince as I did a circuit of the room.

Bridget choked on her coffee. ‘Do it again,’ she ordered.

I did, faster this time, and she doubled over with laughter.

‘Let me find something to go with it.’ Putting down her mug, she leapt up and took one of Dad’s waistcoats from the wardrobe.

I put it on back to front, over my pyjama top. ‘With these?’ I shoved my feet into a pair of green, square-toed shoes, jammed a peacock-feathered fascinator on my head and took out a boxy, straw handbag that looked like a mini picnic hamper.

‘Why Cinderella, you SHALL go to the ball!’ Bridget had tears of mirth in her eyes. ‘May I join you?’ She tugged a silver sequinned jacket with shoulder pads over her nightshirt and tucked it into a pair of black leather trousers that clung to her backside. ‘How do you do?’ she said, slipping a pair of Dad’s Buddy Holly style reading glasses on. ‘Do you come here often?’

Weak with laughter, we paraded about, talking to imaginary wedding guests. ‘This little number?’ I nudged my fascinator. ‘I bought it from the nineteen eighties dahling, for a footballer’s stag do. Isn’t it soooper?’

‘Does my bum look big in this?’ Bridget flapped her eyelashes and stuck out her bottom, which looked like a beach ball in a bin bag.

My ribs ached from laughing as she pretended to take a Kim Kardashian style selfie, then got angry when she couldn’t get the trousers off. ‘How the hell did Mum ever squeeze into these?’

‘Why, is surely more to the point.’ I buckled with fresh laughter as Bridget wriggled and writhed on her back on the bed. ‘Here, let me help.’

By the time we’d wrestled the trousers off, Romy had materalised, rubbing her eyes and smiling uncertainly.

‘We’re helping Auntie Tilly look for something nice to wear,’ said Bridget, apparently forgetting she was supposed to feed Romy something nutritious the second she opened her eyes. ‘Do you want to help?’

Romy nodded, threw down Teddy and went straight to the wardrobe. ‘I fink THIS!’ She tugged a piece of fabric that turned out to be a fairly harmless tunic dress in black, with a block of embroidered swirls around the hem.

‘Actually, I think that will do,’ said Bridget, holding it up. ‘It’s straight up and down, which is more you than something clingy and blingy.’

I checked she wasn’t being facetious, but she looked like she was picturing me in the dress and liking what she saw.

‘It’ll show off your amazing legs,’ she added, her impression of Rufus prompting more laughter, which produced a twang of guilt. I thanked her and Romy for their help, and went to my room to try the dress on, deciding I liked New Bridget a lot.

‘Wow,’ she said, when I eventually sidled into the kitchen, squirmy with embarrassment. ‘Romy is obviously going to be a stylist when she grows up, because that dress really suits you.’

Romy pursed her rosebud lips as she looked me up and down. ‘Yes!’ she pronounced, which made me think of Say Yes to the Dress, and the night that Bridget had arrived with Romy – a stranger in her own home. It felt like a lifetime ago.

‘I don’t really know what to wear with it.’ I smoothed my hair, which I’d straightened after my shower so it was swingy and shiny around my cheeks – like shampoo-advert hair.

‘Those tights look fine.’

‘Obviously, they’re Mum’s,’ I said. ‘I never wear tights.’ They were too tight, like sausage casings, and I hoped to never wear a pair again.

‘And you could wear the blazer I wore the other night,’ Bridget suggested. ‘The sleeves will be a three-quarter on you, which is fine.’

‘Footwear?’

She glanced at my feet. ‘Don’t you have any nice shoes?’

‘The closest I’ve got are some black suede ankle boots.’

‘They’ll do,’ she said. ‘You need a pinker lipstick.’ She reached for her bag and pulled one out. ‘I hardly ever wear it these days.’

‘Thanks.’ I went to the mirror in the hall and smoothed some on, trying to work out how I felt, and wishing I didn’t keep thinking about Jack, and the fun we could have had. It was probably because I’d never been to a wedding before, never mind with a… my head wanted to say boyfriend, but my heart wouldn’t quite let me.

When Rufus turned up, five minutes early, my stomach was twanging with nerves, which had nothing to do with meeting a bunch of people I’d never clapped eyes on, and everything to do with sharing a confined space with Rufus for two hours – more if we ran into traffic on the way there and back. We’d never even spent a full night together. And this was his brother’s wedding. There’d be alcohol at the reception, and I had a feeling Rufus wouldn’t be holding back. Combined with his complicated relationship with his brother – who was marrying a woman Rufus had been secretly in love with for goodness knew how long – would it be a recipe for disaster? Or, at least, a punch-up. I really hoped not, and reminded myself that Rufus was besotted with me, and probably wasn’t in the mood for a fight at a wedding.

‘You look stunning,’ he said, holding the car door open, and leaning in to softly kiss my cheek. He’d scrubbed up well in a grey, double-breasted suit that flattered his colouring, and went well with his crisp white shirt and bottle-green matt silk tie. He smelt nice too (why hadn’t I thought to wear perfume?) and as I folded myself into the car, my nerves steadied. It would be nice to have a day out. Even the sun was trying to appear, peeking between rushing clouds – although it was eye-wateringly cold, and I hoped we wouldn’t be standing around too long after the ceremony, waiting for photographs.

‘It’s made of fine corduroy,’ Rufus said from the driver’s seat, fingering the hem of his jacket when I told him he looked nice. ‘It’s flexible, so good for throwing some shapes on the dance floor.’ He demonstrated a few moves with his shoulders and fists, eyebrows jigging up and down. He hadn’t shaved his head, as he’d said he was planning to do (Jason Statham needn’t worry) but had arranged his hair so it looked like he had quite a bit more than he did.

‘We’re not staying too late, are we?’ I hadn’t meant to sound edgy, but Rufus’s smile didn’t budge.

‘Let’s see how the day plays out.’

‘I have to get back,’ I said. ‘I’ve work to do.’ The words increased the jitteriness in my stomach. Cassie had messaged to say Danny didn’t know anyone available at short notice to lay a floor, but despite offering his services – he’s willing to give it a bash! – I’d assured her it was fine. In fact, I’d lied, and said I’d found someone, anyway.

‘It’s the weekend, Tilly.’ Rufus over-pronounced my name, as if proving he was saying it right, and gave an indulgent chuckle. ‘And since when did you care about work?’ His confidence seemed to have grown now he finally had me trussed up in his car (not in a kidnap-victim way, though I experienced a pinch of panic as I turned to wave at Bridget and Romy, watching from the doorstep) and he pulled away from the kerb like a man who very much knew what he wanted.

Far from finding this attractive, I felt suddenly trapped. ‘I care when I’ve made a promise.’ Even if it was only to myself. I adjusted my seat belt as he approached the main road at speed. ‘I have to be back by six. Seven at the latest,’ I said, unsure why it was so important he understood.

He threw me a smile that revealed his strong, white teeth. ‘Like I said, let’s see how things go.’ He reached over and squeezed my knee. ‘My family are going to love you,’ he said. ‘My sister says you probably don’t deserve me, but she’s wrong.’

I had a feeling I wasn’t going to get on with his sister. ‘Seriously, I need to be back this evening.’ I stared at his smooth, pale hand and held my breath until he moved it back to the steering wheel.

‘OK, whatever.’ He shook his head indulgently, as if to say what are you like? and it hit me on some instinctive level that he’d already booked a hotel room as a ‘surprise’. My heart gave a jolt. The car felt too hot, but I didn’t fancy taking my jacket off, and tugged my dress over my knees. He kept darting looks at them, as though they were cream cakes he fancied biting into. ‘Do you mind if I turn the heating down?’

‘Actually, I do, I’m really cold.’ He grinned. ‘Joking,’ he said, and flipped the switch.

We drove along the A38 and through Buckfastleigh without speaking. Rufus switched the radio on, and cocked his head to show he was listening to the presenter, who was talking about schools in northern Nigeria sending students out to beg.

‘Maybe some music?’ I leaned forward to twiddle with the knob, hoping some Christmas tunes might lighten the mood – my mood at least – but Rufus lightly slapped my fingers away.

‘I was listening to that.’ He flashed another smile. ‘I like to broaden my mind while driving,’ he said. ‘It keeps me interesting.’

Really? I suddenly felt like saying. It’s not working.

Chastised, I sat back, feeling like someone I didn’t know in his strongly pine-scented car, clutching a gold-clasped bag that belonged to Mum. I didn’t possess a handbag. I used a small rucksack if I was carrying more than I could keep in my pockets and it felt odd, like holding a tray or a brick.

‘Any subjects I should avoid talking about at the wedding?’ I said, but the presenter had moved on to advances in molecular biology – Rufus’s area – and he held up a finger to shush me.

Resisting an urge to snap it off, I turned to look out of the window at the scenery flowing by under a snow-white sky, wishing now that I’d thrown his bouquet away, instead of putting it in a jug in Dad’s office, out of the way. The questions I’d planned to ask seemed completely inappropriate – worse, I realised I didn’t care what his favourite colour/animal/food was, or whether he wanted children, and he didn’t seem inclined to ask me anything about myself.

How would we survive a whole day together? And how would I get back if he’d been drinking and was determined to stay and ‘throw some shapes’ before luring me to his seedy hotel room? Obviously I didn’t know it would be seedy, it was just the vibe I was getting.

It was as if my true feelings had floated to the surface, perhaps jolted by the potholes in the road, or by Rufus’s close proximity; so different to being with Seth, when conversation flowed without any prompting or awkwardness.

‘You know, I never really thought that painting my feelings would work,’ Rufus said unexpectedly, turning the radio down.

‘Sorry?’

‘Last time I did it, I almost got arrested.’ His eyes were too bright – almost glassy – and I spotted a patch of stubble by his ear he must have missed while shaving. ‘Luckily, she didn’t press charges, but I still ended up moving back to Ivybridge because of her.’

‘Hang on.’ I swivelled to face him. ‘You’ve got form?’

‘Form?’ He pulled his chin back, slowing the car as we approached a set of roadwork traffic lights on red. ‘I’m not a hardened criminal.’ His glance bordered on cocky as he pulled the handbrake on and turned to shoot me a tight-lipped smile. ‘Girls like romantic gestures,’ he said. ‘You’ve proved that.’ What? ‘She just wasn’t the right girl for me.’

Girl? Ugh. ‘It wasn’t a romantic gesture, it was damage to public property,’ I said, snapping my seat belt off. ‘And I’m not the right girl for you either, Rufus, I’m sorry. I should never have agreed to come.’

‘Wait.’ His hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m sorry, but I can’t go to the wedding with you.’

‘But, Tilly, you promised! You said your word is your bond.’

‘Rufus, be honest.’ I tried to shake him off. ‘You want me there as arm candy, to impress your bother, and to prove to his wife that you’re over her.’ I waited for him to deny it. ‘It’s not even about me.’

‘You know that I think you’re gorgeous.’ His grip tightened. ‘I’m in love with you, Tilly,’ he said through his teeth, looking anything but loving. ‘How many more ways can I say it?’

‘None.’ I finally wrenched free from his grasp and rubbed my wrist. The lights were still on red. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve misled you, Rufus, I really am, but it’s over.’ As I reached behind me to open the door I heard a thunk. ‘Did you just lock me in?’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ Another thunk as he released the locks. ‘Please, Tilly, just come with me today and I’ll never bother you again.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Remember our lovemaking?’ His tone became pleading. ‘It was something special.’

How had I ever allowed myself to be naked with this… person? ‘For you, maybe.’

‘Look, you’re coming with me, whether you like it or not.’

‘Go to hell, Rufus.’

His hand fastened around my upper arm. ‘Don’t talk to me like that.’

I looked into his eyes. His pupils had inflated so his irises looked almost black, and my breath stuck to the back of my throat. Had I really thought he might be my first grown-up relationship? That we might have a future together? No, not really.

‘Get. Off. Me,’ I said through clenched teeth. ‘Right now, or I’ll break your balls.’

He automatically clamped his thighs together. ‘Is it to do with that man?’ he said.

‘Man?’

‘The one you hugged on the beach, after you saved his son’s life?’ His voice dripped with resentment.

‘I still can’t believe you watched all that and did nothing.’ As if a blindfold had been removed, I saw that was the moment I should have known we didn’t belong together. ‘Now, move your hand.’

‘I only asked you out to please our dads,’ he muttered, releasing his grip and dropping back in his seat. ‘You haven’t even got a proper job. And I only pretended to like Alanis Morissette. I prefer Meat Loaf.’

‘Well, I don’t like Stinking Bishop,’ I shot back. ‘I prefer cheesey triangles.’ Before he could respond, I shakily fumbled the door open and clambered out onto the road. The lights were amber, and drivers were revving their engines. I leaned down to look at him. ‘If you contact me again, in any way, I will go to the police.’ I was glad my voice sounded steady. ‘Tell your brother I’m sorry.’

I slammed the door as the traffic began to move, and hurried onto the pavement, not sure where I was going – only that I needed to be as far away as possible from Rufus Pillock.

I found a café in the little town and ordered a coffee, which I drank at a table by the steamy window, feeling the warmth seep through me as I stared through the window at a Christmas market in the square, where a small brass band was playing carols.

I didn’t feel like calling anyone, or thinking about what had just happened, and decided I might as well do some shopping since I had some time on my hands. Pushing Rufus to a distant corner of my mind, I spent an hour or so browsing the fairy-lit stalls and buying Christmas gifts – including a squeaky toy for Digby, a wooden board game for Jack, and a deep-blue hand-knitted fisherman-style sweater that I knew would look good on Seth.

Bridget and I hadn’t exchanged gifts for years, but there was a bookshop nearby, and after reading a chapter of a funny new parenting book that made me laugh out loud, I bought it for her (but kept the receipt just in case), then spotted a scarf on a stall that matched her eyes and bought that too.

Pleased with my haul, I drew some money from a cashpoint, and bought a bag of roast chestnuts, which I ate in a taxi on the way back to Ivybridge, and shared with the female driver as I couldn’t face making small talk.

I couldn’t face returning home either, and asked her to drop me in Seashell Cove, but felt stranded and out of place in Mum’s dress and jacket, with my hands full of bags. I was wearing tights, for god’s sake. I hadn’t worn tights since school, and the crotch had sunk almost to my knees. Suddenly, I didn’t want to go to the café, or the bakery, but unless I returned home to get my car, I couldn’t go anywhere else.

As I dithered, shivering in my unseasonal outfit, watching a jogger down on the beach, a car horn made me jump.

‘Tilly?’

I jerked round. It was Seth, looking at me through the half-lowered window of his car with a puzzled look on his face. ‘I thought you were going to a wedding.’

‘I was.’ I shook my hair out of my watering eyes. ‘I changed my mind.’

He leaned over to open the passenger door. ‘Get in,’ he said, and for the second time that day, I found myself getting into a car with a man.

Only this time, I wanted to be there.