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that day. I couldn’t afford the luxury of thinking of that now. First, we all had to face the night ahead—a night of reunion and a time of celebration—all the while trying to ignore the fact that, for the first time, we would be meeting as six instead of seven.
    “Baby steps,” I murmured again to myself as I settled before the dressing table and began to apply my makeup.
    SARAH HAD CHOSEN the location for the dinner well. We were booked at a fancy restaurant on the other side of town. A place far too expensive and sophisticated for us to have frequented in our student days. I arrived early, a good thirty minutes before our reservation, hoping it would give me some sort of mental advantage. Having given Sarah’s name to the maître d’, I declined the suggestion to wait at the bar and asked instead to be seated at our table.
    I was ushered to a large circular table in the far corner of the restaurant. I chose a chair facing the doorway, wanting the advantage of being able to see who would arrive next. I could certainly have done without the large mirrored wall directly opposite our table; I’d already spent far too much time stressing over my reflection in the hotel room. I didn’t need the indulgence of another half hour of wondering whether my choice of midnight blue dress with the deep V neckline had been the right one. Having brought no alternative for the evening, there wasn’t really much I could do about it either way. Nervously I kept checking my reflection, each time pulling my hair forward, making sure it swung deeply across my cheek.
    Phil was the first to arrive, looking tanned and much moremuscled and broad-shouldered than I remembered. He crushed me to him in such a bear hug of an embrace, I felt sure some ribs were going to give way in the process. “Okay, need to breathe now.”
    He laughed and released me, sliding into the chair beside me.
    “You’re looking good, Rachel,” he began, and I had to almost sit on my hand to stop myself from automatically reaching up to check if my hair was still hiding my face. If he noticed, he was too polite to say. “It’s been way too long. How have you been? Are you still living in Devon?”
    We filled in the gaps in our histories, keeping it light, and his story was sufficiently varied to carry the conversation until the next arrival: Trevor and his partner, Kate. I didn’t know that Sarah had invited partners, but as I introduced myself, after receiving a lift-you-off-your-feet hug from her boyfriend, I realized that Sarah had been wise to have included outsiders at our group’s reunion. New faces would take the pressure off.
    For the first time I counted up the place settings at the table, and wondered who the extra seat was for. I didn’t have to wait long to find out, for Sarah burst into the restaurant with an infectious grin, a bundle of
Getting Married
helium balloons in her hand and her fiancé, Dave, in tow.
    “Who brings their fiancé to their hen night?” joked Phil, standing up to shake Dave’s hand warmly in greeting.
    “What can I say? He just can’t bear to be apart from me.”
    I gave her my warmest smile and then nodded my head toward the balloons.
    “Classy.”
    “I thought so.”
    “Well, this is a really nice place,” pronounced Dave, pullingout a chair for Sarah before settling himself closely beside her. “Very posh.”
    “Uh-huh,” she confirmed, and then stage-whispered across to me, “Better get on the phone and cancel that
‘entertainment,’
Rach.”
    By this time Trevor had been approached by the wine waiter, and while a discussion ensued over what to order, Sarah took the opportunity to lean over and whisper in my ear.
    “How are you doing, hon?
Really
.”
    “Hanging in there,” I whispered back, and when I saw the concern cloud her brow, I knew I had to try harder. “I’m fine, stop worrying about me.” She gave my hand a quick squeeze and leaned back in her chair.
    The first awkward moment occurred