Page 44 of All the Things We Never Knew

But I kept an eye on the video guy, and when there was a break in the proceedings I saw him slip away, so I slipped too.

I found him in the rose garden, smoking a cigarette.

‘Hi,’ I said. ‘Got a light?’

I had one in my bag, but he didn’t need to know that. He offered me his packet of fags, and I took one, leaning in for him to light it for me.

‘Not sure you should be fraternising with the help,’ he said, ‘being a bridesmaid and all.’

‘But I’m the help too,’ I assured him. ‘I’m the bride’s cousin, by the way. My name’s Anna.’

‘Gray,’ he said.

‘Great name.’ I smiled.

‘It’s more of a nickname, actually. So are these all your family?’

I laughed. ‘Not all of them. Come on – there are lots of us, but not two hundred. My mum and dad are here, though, and my two sisters, and my granny and grandpa. And there are other cousins about – there are fourteen of us altogether.’

‘Wow.’ His deep brown eyes widened with something like longing. ‘What’s that like?’

I laughed. ‘Carnage, mostly. You should see our family Christmases.’

‘I’d like to. Let me know if you ever have room for waifs and strays.’

‘There’s so many of us we probably wouldn’t notice a gate-crasher,’ I joked.

By the end of the night, he’d taken my number. The following Monday he called me, and on the Friday night we went out. He took me to a fancy cocktail bar in Soho, where a client of his was apparently a member and had swung him a guest pass.

And that December, he did join my family for Christmas – not as a gate-crasher but as my boyfriend. I remembered his face on that day too, when he’d walked into the crowded room and seen all the assembled faces, not the same but similar, heard the laughter and chatter, smelled the roasting turkey and the woodsmoke from the fireplace.

‘You’re lucky, Anna,’ he said. ‘So lucky to be part of this.’

‘You are too, now,’ I told him.

It was six months after that that he asked me to marry him, and less than a year later we found the house on Damask Square and started our own family.

Later that day, I returned to Gray’s bedside with the children. They talked to him, telling him about their day at school.

Lulu glanced at her phone. Barney’s stomach rumbled – he hadn’t wanted the sandwich I’d offered him after school. Normally he would have been at his cricket practice, and Lulu would have been at her dance class, but instead we were all here, in this limbo that we longed to end but dreaded ending.

At last I said, ‘I suppose we should get home.’

But then Gray opened his eyes.

‘Hello, darling,’ I said. ‘Lulu and Barney are here with me.’

‘Hi, Dad,’ Lulu said, forcing a smile even though I could tell she wanted to cry.

‘How are you feeling?’ Barney asked, as if part of him was still expecting that miracle.

‘I love you,’ Gray said. He sounded as if his mouth was dry.

‘We love you too, Dad,’ Lulu croaked, gripping his hand, tears suddenly streaming down her face.

‘Dad – we’re here,’ Barney said, and I knew what he meant was, Please stay with us.

I stood up and went to the window, looking out over the grass and up to the sky rather than at my husband and children. I could hear the faint rustle of the pillowcase as Gray turned his head to look first at one of them and then at the other. I could hear Lulu’s sobs and Barney sniffing. Then I turned back and leaned over the bed, my arms around their shoulders, the three of us huddled close over Gray as if the four of us were squeezing in for a family selfie.