“Don’t move,” he said, not in his ‘I’m about to fuck you’ voice, but still brokering no argument.He left the kitchen but returned a moment...later with his phone in his hand. It registered what he was doing, so like the year before, I leant back against the work surface. Tommy took the photo without any objection from me this time. Just like that time after we were welcomed to the street, he came and stood next to me and showed me the picture.“Having found the most perfect dessert and added. The marquee is bathed in pink disco lights and the round tables are littered with glasses, handbags and scarves. A few elaborate headpieces hang off the backs of chairs. I can see Tom and Kristy arguing across the room. She’s tucking her silver clutch under her arm and holding her hand out for the room key. He passes it to her and she flounces off, briefly pausing at the door to see if he’s following her. He isn’t. I can’t help myself now; I catch his eye and tip my shot glass at him before. More

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