Ducking out to reception at five past, Pru tried ringing home again. No reply. Ditto his mobile.

But she didn’t have time to start worrying. Dulcie and Patrick had arrived.

‘What’s going on?’ Patrick was looking suitably confused. ‘I thought the table at Langharn’s was booked for eight fifteen ... Hello, Pru, what are you doing here? Did Dulcie tell you it was my birthday? Come and give me a big kiss.’

‘Right, that’s enough,’ barked Dulcie moments later. She seized his arm. ‘No time for snogging.

As soon as I’ve booked a sunbed for tomorrow, we’re off. Pru, where’s Anna?’

Pru pointed obediently in the direction of the banqueting hall.

‘Through there.’

‘Do I deserve you?’ Patrick murmured, wrapping his arms around his wife as they danced to something slow and slushy. Dulcie was looking amazing in a skin-tight little black dress and the kind of seriously high heels he liked. Her black hair was slicked back Valentino style. The diamond studs he had given her for Christmas glittered in her ears. Dulcie had the figure, the looks and the legs; what’s more, she knew how to flaunt them.

And she had gone to the trouble of organising a surprise party for him, even to the extent of doing all the food. Well, with a little help from Pru.

Patrick was touched.

Dulcie stuck her tongue out at him.

‘Deserve me? Of course you don’t.’ His dark-brown eyes narrowed with amusement.

‘I do love you.’

Patrick didn’t say it often, he wasn’t that kind of man. But Dulcie knew he did.

It was just a shame he loved work more.

‘I should bloody well think so.’ Reaching up, she flicked his ear lobe with her tongue. It had been so long, she’d quite forgotten how nice Patrick was to dance with. If she wasn’t so excited about James and Bibi’s imminent arrival she might have put the pleasurable churning sensation in her stomach down to the effect of her husband’s body pressed against hers.

‘Come on then.’ Patrick gave her waist a pinch. ‘Your turn. Only fair.’

It was a long-standing joke between them. When she said it, Patrick didn’t. When he said it, she didn’t.

But this was the last birthday they would celebrate together. On impulse, Dulcie gave it one final try.

love you too.’

Patrick looked startled.

She went on, ‘But I’d love you more if you worked less.’

‘Dulcie—’

He had that look on his face, the look she had come to know oh so well during the course of the last couple of years. The one, Dulcie thought bitterly, that was about to end their marriage.

‘Not a lot less,’ she urged, ‘just a bit.’

‘Sweetheart, don’t you think I would if I could?’ Sherecognised the note of exasperation in his voice as well. They had had this argument too often in the past. The novelty had worn off. ‘I’m building up a business. It’s tough.’

Damn right it’s tough, thought Dulcie.

‘But I’m doing it for us,’ Patrick went on. This was how he always justified himself; she could have recited the words by heart. Dulcie hated this bit. She hated the way he always managed to make her feel like a spoilt child. She wasn’t selfish. Well, not very. She just wanted a husband she could see occasionally, and talk to. She wanted a normal married life.

‘Okay, I know the rest,’ said Dulcie before he could launch into the next phase of his defence.

‘Let’s not argue. This is your party. And we can’t stay here smooching, either.’

Patrick, as keen to change the subject as she was, looked affronted.

‘Why not? It’s my birthday.’

‘You’re supposed to spread yourself around. Smooch with other women.’ Dulcie detached herself from his grasp and peered around. ‘Go on, there’s Pru. That bastard husband of hers still hasn’t turned up.’

Pru was glad she was dancing with Patrick when Phil eventually appeared. Well, she’d rather not have been there at all, but dancing with Patrick was at least better than standing on her own propping up a wall.

Not a lot better, considering it was the most horrendous moment of her life, but a bit.

Pru felt the blood drain from her cheeks. Phil was drunk. Seriously drunk.

And ... oh God ... Blanche was at his side.

‘Shit, shit,’ breathed Liza, startling the banker she had been introduced to only moments before.

She watched in horror as Phil shambled on to the dance floor.

Blanche was wearing the infamous rubber skirt and spike heels higher than Dulcie’s. Her emerald-green halter-neck top was studded with rhinestones. Despite the stilettos, she was doing a good job of keeping Phil upright.

‘Pru, sorry he’s late. I bumped into him in the Forester’s Arms. He kept saying he was supposed to be here so I put him in my car. You won’t be cross with him, will you? He’s had a few, but no real harm done.’

Pm, who had never been cross with Phil in her life, stared at him. Across the room, dimly, she heard Dulcie say, ‘Oh Christ.’

Blanche’s ex-husband had drunk for England. She had had plenty of practice with piss-heads; compared with her ex, Phil was only tiddly. Planting him expertly upright, she turned to leave.

‘Okay, Pru? I’ll be off then.’

Phil took one look at the frozen expression on Pru’s face and swung round like a cartoon drunk, grabbing her back again. ‘No you won’t. Don’t go. Stay and dance.’

‘Really, I can’t.’ Blanche shook him off.

‘Come back!’ roared Phil. He gestured recklessly in Pru’s direction. ‘Look at her, Miss Prim-and-bloody-proper .. . Blanche, I want you to stay. I don’t love her, I love you. I don’t want her any more ... I WANT YOU ..

Patrick couldn’t do anything – he was holding on to Pru. Instead Dulcie launched herself like a rocket across the dance floor and punched Phil Kasteliz so hard he toppled over.

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ muttered Blanche, not looking at Dulcie. Evidently as strong as an ox, she hauled Phil to his feet and all but carried him out of the room. By the door, she encountered Liza.

‘I shouldn’t have brought him. This wasn’t meant to happen. I was only trying to help.’

Liza’s voice dripped with derision.

‘Oh well, that’s all right then. Give yourself a pat on the back, you’ve done your good deed for the night.’

Pru wasn’t crying. She sat on a chair in the loo, eerily composed.

Except she wasn’t composed, Liza realised as she handed her a massive brandy. How could she be? She must be in a state of shock.

‘You’re in a state of shock,’ she told Pru.

‘Am I?’ Pru stared straight ahead, her gaze fixed on the hand dryer. All in white like a jilted bride, she shrugged. ‘Probably.’

Liza felt uncomfortable. Weeping and wailing wasn’t Pru’s style but it would be far easier to deal with.

‘What do you want to do?’

Another shrug. ‘I don’t know. Go home, I suppose.’

‘Are you sure? Phil might be there. Stay with me tonight.’ Liza felt rather heroic; she had been enjoying herself tremendously. Now it looked as if she was going to have to miss the rest of the party and take Pru back to her flat instead.

Dulcie cannoned through the door.

‘He’s gone. I just hit him again, out in the car park. And I told that stringy cow to fuck off too.’

Her green eyes glittered. ‘I said if she ever sets foot in your house again she’s dead. Oh Pm, I’m so sorry it had to happen like this. And they could have ruined the party—’

She went to fling her arms around Pm, still sitting stiffly on her chair.

Pru flung the contents of her glass into Dulcie’s face. At least that was her intention but her aim was off. Most of it splattered against the mirror above the basin.

‘What the ?’ Dulcie staggered backwards, stunned by Pru’s reaction. It was like being spat at by a nun.

‘You planned all this, didn’t you?’ hissed Pru. She began to shake. ‘Wait until ten o’clock, you said, for an extra-special surprise. Two late arrivals. For God’s sake, Dulcie, what did you think you were playing at?’

Liza stared at Dulcie. Surely she hadn’t .. .

‘Oh come on!’ Dulcie howled, mopping helplessly at her wet left shoulder and brandy-spotted dress. ‘They weren’t the surprise! Do you seriously think I’d do something that crass?’

Nobody said anything. Dulcie stamped her foot in frustration. Some friends she had.

‘Well I bloody wouldn’t. What I’d planned was brilliant, the answer to a problem nobody else has had the guts to solve. And dammit’ – she checked her watch – ‘if we don’t get out there we’re going to miss the whole thing. It’ll happen without me.’

Pru rose to her feet.

‘Dulcie, I’m sorry. I can’t believe I just did that.’ She looked worried. ‘Is your dress okay?’

‘I can’t believe you did it either.’ Dulcie broke into a grin. ‘And my dress will be fine. Just as well it wasn’t egg flip.’

‘Come on, let’s go. We don’t want to miss your big surprise,’ said Pru with a ghost of a smile.

‘What is it, a Chippendale for Liza?’

Bibi looked pretty shell-shocked when she arrived on James’s arm and realised whose party he had brought her to. Rushing over to welcome them, Dulcie saw her eyes flicker around the hall in search of banners screaming: 40 TODAY!

To allay Bibi’s fears and prevent her dragging James back out to the car, Dulcie greeted her with a kiss, whispering in her ear, ‘Don’t panic, all under control.’

She wasn’t completely insensitive. It wasn’t as if she was going to jump up on to the stage with a loud-hailer yelling, ‘Hands up all those eligible for a bus pass.’

Oh no, that would be downright naff.

Subtlety was the key, Dulcie had decided. She wasn’t going to say anything at all. Just wait for the revelation to casually slip out.

It casually slipped out sooner than she had expected. Having recovered from the Pru-and-Phil incident, everyone had taken to the dance floor with a vengeance. Dulcie and James were telling Bibi about the panic over the buffet and Dulcie’s trolley dash around Marks & Spencer. Patrick returned with drinks for Bibi and James.