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Apart from the fags, of course. She seemed to have got through rather a lot this afternoon. Oh well, she could power walk back via a detour to the corner shop to restock. Good plan.
    When she got back with a slightly surprised and panting Ash – he wasn’t used to power walks - it was still only just gone eight. SJ grabbed a ready meal for two from the freezer and put it on a baking tray in the oven. As she straightened up, she just missed knocking herself out on Tom’s latest acquisition, an earthenware pub jug that he’d hung on a brass hook just to the left of the oven. He was a fanatical hoarder of breweriana – his beer mat collection was huge, and he was forever picking up bits of old pub junk to add to his collection.
    The beer jug would have to find another home, SJ decided, rubbing her head as she set the timer on her mobile phone and wondered what to do next. It was still a bit early to start her three quarters of a bottle. She went and had a look at it instead. Tom had installed a feature bar in their lounge, behind which was a wine fridge that also contained tonic and soft drinks. Above the bar was a row of optics he’d got from a friend who’d just sold his riverside pub to developers, along with Tom’s display of corkscrews, which were much more useful than anything else he collected.
    Tom occasionally had an after-dinner Scotch and the bottle was half full. It had been half full for ages, but the gin optic was nearly empty. Perhaps she should finish it now so it wasn’t a temptation. That was a good plan – Kit was bound to tell her not to drink gin sooner or later. She’d managed to sidestep the issue today by telling him they had hardly any left.
    She took a crystal tumbler from behind the bar, and also a wine glass - well, she’d need that in a bit. Then she fetched the frozen lemon slices from the freezer and went back into the lounge. Expectation of the first drink of the day – marvellous. The first one was always the best: no matter how many more you had you couldn’t beat that first feeling of liquid relaxation seeping through your body. BLISS.
    The flashing light of the answer machine caught her attention and she pounced on it, hoping it wasn’t a message from Tom saying he’d be even later than planned.
    The first brief message was from Tanya’s husband Michael, confirming a squash court booking with Tom at the weekend. The second message was lengthier.
    “Good evening, Sarah-Jane, this is your mother here. Thank you very much for the car boot sale contribution – we raised another thirty pounds for the Cats’ Protection League.” SJ suppressed a smile. Mum had her telephone voice on, which was posh and slightly self-conscious. She hated talking to answer machines. “So thank you. Anyway, I’m phoning because your father and I are trying to finalise the party arrangements. I know you’re very busy, but could you please call me when you get a minute.” A small pause. “We need to discuss things.” Another pause. “It’s quite urgent, Sarah-Jane.” The posh accent was slipping a bit. “No, she’s not in, Jim, I’m just leaving a message. Oh, bugger, you know I hate talking to these things. Phone me back, love. Bye-ee.”
    Another distraction. Excellent. SJ dialled her parents’ number and settled on the settee.
    “Hi, Mum. What’s so urgent? The party isn’t till September.”
    “It’s early September, love, and it’s a lot to organise. It’s a big day for us – and we want to do things properly. Make sure everything goes without a hitch – you know.”
    SJ was pretty sure the hitch referred to herself and her sister, Alison, whom she’d managed to avoid being in the same room as for the last five years. No mean feat, when their parents had a thing about Proper Family Gatherings. So far she’d been ‘ill at the last minute’ for three Christmases, four birthday celebrations and one meal out to celebrate Mum and Dad’s Premium Bond win.
    The rest of the