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at my phone. Seven fifteen.
    ‘Too early, Tommy. Let Auntie Cass sleep just a bit longer and then we’ll play football, I promise.’
    ‘But I want to play now ,’ he wheedled, pulling the duvet off the bed. I grabbed it back. Our tug-of-war was interrupted by Celia.
    ‘Tom, what are doing in here? Leave Auntie Cassie alone and go downstairs to have your breakfast.’
    ‘But I want to play football ,’ Tom insisted.
    ‘Cassie doesn’t have time for football, Tom. She’s going to be busy with me today.’ All of a sudden a kickabout in the garden with Tom was sounding rather attractive. Tom started to whimper. Celia ignored him. ‘Better jump in the shower, Cass, before Mike gets in there. We’ve got loads to do this morning.’
    I looked at my phone again. No missed calls, no text messages. I’d called Dan four times the previous evening and sent two texts telling him I loved him. He was officially ignoring me.
    Why I had to be dragged out of bed at half past seven I have no idea, since we didn’t actually get going until after nine. I think Celia just cannot stand the idea that I am lying in bed doing nothing when she is making breakfast, supervising baths, brushing hair and selecting outfits. In any case, I was showered and dressed and just helping myself to a second piece of toast when Mike emerged wearing a ridiculous pair of green and brown checked trousers and a brown sweater.
    ‘All right, Cass?’ he said, giving me a peck on the cheek. ‘You made it then?’
    ‘I did indeed. How are you?’
    ‘Oh, not so bad, not so bad. Bit of a sore head this morning, you know how it is. Off to play eighteen holes at the club with a couple of chaps from work. How’s your job going, by the way? You still got one? Hamilton Churchill’s not gone under yet?’ he enquired cheerily.
    ‘It’s going fine, Mike,’ I said, gritting my teeth.
    ‘Even so, you might want to start looking around, you know, keep an eye out for other opportunities. Just to be safe. Because from what I hear, there are going to be a lot of jobs going in your sector.’
    I chewed my toast and clamped my mouth shut. Fortunately, we were interrupted by Rosie who came tearing into the room and flung herself across my lap.
    ‘Lucy’s got a party dress on,’ Rosie announced proudly, showing me her doll, which had been draped in sparkly silver wrapping paper.
    ‘And doesn’t she look lovely?’ I replied, thinking, wrapping paper . Oh, shit. A gift. I had completely forgotten to get my parents a gift. Shit, shit, shit.
    Since Mike was golfing all day and therefore unable to either help out with party preparations or look after the children, Celia had arranged for Rosie and Monty to spend the day with Jo, her best friend who has kids of similar ages. After Jo’s we drove Tom to his karate lesson, then into town to buy balloons and glittery, sparkly things which Celia said were for sprinkling over tables. We picked up the cake, a rather boring white square with ‘ Congratulations! ’ written on it in blue icing and ‘ Tim and Susan, 28 happy years ’ underneath in pink. From there we went to the dry cleaner’s to fetch Mike’s ‘good’ suit, to the florist’s to pick up the fifteen floral centrepieces (it’s a good thing Celia drives an Espace), and from there to the school to pick Tom up from karate. We drove him home for a hurriedly devoured sandwich, after which he too was left with Jo.
    ‘All right then, we’d best get over to the Holiday Inn and start getting everything ready,’ Celia said as we drove off, waving goodbye to a tearful Rosie who isn’t used to spending quite so much time apart from Mummy.
    ‘Yeah,’ I said slowly, wondering if I should have broken the news about the present to Celia when she wasn’t behind the wheel of a large, fast-moving vehicle. ‘The thing is, Cee, I sort of forgot, you know, there was so much going on at work this week and worries with Dan and everything and …’
    ‘You forgot