‘Coca Cola please, I’m teetotal,’ he replies and I swear to God, Maggie’s frozen non-reaction speaks volumes.

Then I realise this entails me leaving the room and going to the fridge to get the drink for him, thereby exposing him to Maggie at her foulest, i.e., when her TV’s just been interrupted. So I race to the kitchen as quick as I can, but just as I’m coming back into the TV room, I’m in time to catch her saying, ‘So, Matt. Are you sure you’re not going to try to get me to join a cult? No offence, but you have that look about you.’

I hand him the drink and of course, overcompensate for her horribleness by patting the sofa beside me and asking him to join me. Like some maiden aunt in a black and white film; all I’m short of is a hairnet, a lace mantilla and a pair of knitting needles.

‘So, you’re an actuary?’ I smile.

‘Yes, but it’s not nearly as exciting as it sounds, you know.’

‘That a fact?’ snipes Maggie from under a thick cloud of smoke, waves of hostility practically rolling off her.

I think that this is probably the first heterosexual man under the age of forty to have set foot in the TV room since my dad’s funeral, hence her reacting as if she’s about to wave garlic and a crucifix into the poor guy’s face at any minute. But Matt doesn’t seem to even notice. Got a thick skin, obviously. Which augurs well.

‘It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Jessie,’ he says to me at one point. ‘It’s not often someone in my line of work gets to meet a genuine household name.’

‘Well, well, well. You must be an actuary anda comedian,’ Maggie smiles like a cobra. ‘Because, let me tell you, Jessie is barely a household name in her own house.’

I don’t want to let the entire Woods family down in front of him, so, like the majority of Maggie’s jibes, I let it slide. More long pauses, then purely from the point of view of filling up dead air (a radio phrase I just learnt), I pass some inane comment about how lucky we are the weather is so fab, considering the forecast for today was complete rubbish.

‘In actual fact, it’s nothing to do with luck at all,’ Matt explains. ‘It’s a mathematical certainty that weather forecasters are inaccurate forty-five per cent of the time, so it’s perfectly probable that good weather was likely after all.’

A quick glance at Maggie tells me that the probability of Matt being about ten seconds away from one of her nastier, more cutting comments is a dead certainty, but mercifully, Sharon bounces in just then, looking absolutely gorgeous in yet another new outfit that she bought without me. In fact, with the amount of new gear she’s been bringing home this week, I’m thinking she must have spent her entire wage packet in the boutiques of the Omni Park shopping centre. Dear God, I have created a shopping addict in my own image.

As we all get up to leave, I make a point of letting Maggie know that she was invited to the christening too and is absolutely more than welcome to join us. On the principle that it’s one thing less for her to bitch about later on.

‘I’m not much of a kid-lover,’ is her reply, puffing smoke at me.

‘Are you sure?’ I ask, really making an effort here. ‘It’ll be fun.’

‘Oh please, fun? At a christening party? If you ask me, I’ve always thought the witch in Hansel and Gretel is a deeply misunderstood woman. She builds her dream home and two brats come along and eat it? Deserved what they got really.’

Knew it was a complete waste of time asking her. Dunno why I even bothered. Then Matt’s phone rings and as he goes out to the hallway to take the call, Sharon turns to us both.

‘Well? Thumbs up or thumbs down? You can tell the truth, ’cos I’m just using him for practice really. My Defibrillator Guy,’ she adds, with a knowing look in my direction.

‘Well Sharon, I think he’s absolutely lovely,’ I say, really meaning it. ‘Mad about you too. Couldn’t take his eyes off you when you came into the room!’

‘Jeez, do you really think so?’

‘Honestly. He was looking at you adoringly. Like…like…’ I scramble around for a metaphor. ‘Like a cute little…seal pup.’

‘Yeah,’ says Maggie. ‘That you want to clobber.’

As the three of us head for Matt’s car, I turn to Sharon. ‘Something has to be done about her. She’s been in a bad mood for about twenty years now and I’m not sure how much more of it that I can take. The nicer I try to be to her, the worse she gets.’

‘I know,’ Sharon nods, as Matt goes to link her arm and she shoves him off. ‘But what the hell do we do?’

Anyway, we drive to Hannah’s house, which by car is only about five minutes from our street. Although neither Sharon nor I have ever been here before, you’d know we had the right house from about a mile off. Dozens of helium balloons are hanging off the gateposts, and the tiny driveway is completely stuffed with cars. It’s still early but already the party is looking wild and raucous. As we park and make our way to the front door, we can already see the front garden heaving with kids, all playing screaming fighting with each other.

For a split second my thoughts go back to my old life; I remember a children’s do Eva and Nathaniel had for their twins where they’d hired an actual string quartet to play and the kids just looked bored off their heads while the adults stood around sipping Bellinis and talking about money. It was so sedate compared to this; a real, old-fashioned knees-up where even this early in the evening, you can see most of the grown-ups slowly starting to get arseholed drunk. I know where I’d far rather be too, I think, gratefully giving Sharon’s arm an encouraging squeeze. Among real friends, thanks very much.

Hannah’s mum, Mrs Hayes, answers the door and it takes a second for her to recognise us.

‘Oh my God, Jessie? Is that you under all the red hair? Sure I’d hardly know you! Hannah will be absolutely thrilled you came by. She’s upstairs changing the baby, but the minute she’s down I’ll let her know you’re here. And Sharon, I barely recognise you, you’re looking so well and so SLIM! Come in, come in and welcome!’

We introduce Matt and she’s so warm and lovely to him as well that it instantly takes me back to when I was a teenager, permanently lounging around her house. Never once did this generous, kind-hearted lady ever make me feel like I was just another kitten sharing the litter tray. At a time when money was tight for everyone, I think she must have guessed that things were rough at home for me and just automatically included me in all her own family meals and activities with no questions asked, bless her.

‘Mrs Hayes, I’m so sorry I haven’t been round to see you before this,’ I make a point of saying, feeling the apology is necessary.

‘Don’t be daft, Jessie. We’re old friends, aren’t we? And old friends don’t stand on ceremony. Steve tells me you’re doing a great job down at the radio station; but you’ll have to play a request for me, won’t you? Promise?’

‘Faithfully promise,’ I smile at her, thinking how lucky he and Hannah were growing up with a mum like this.

‘“Yesterday” by the Beatles will do me grand, love. I’m sixty-five years young next Monday, so if you could play it for me then, it would really make my day.’

‘Consider it done.’

Other guests arrive hot on our heels and Mrs Hayes turns to greet them, so Sharon, Matt and I work our way across the packed living room then on through to the kitchen. There’s at least three generations of families here, all having a blast. I walk past a teenager who looks barely old enough to drink saying to his mum, ‘I swear I’m notpissed! I only had nine!’ Then I see a woman about my age breastfeeding a kid who looks old enough to eat Smiley Burgers. Funny being at a christening when you’re single and childless; it’s like the life you never had flashes in front of your eyes.