‘There should be a bottle of fizz on the table,’ says Dan fretfully. ‘I’ll just go and sort that out … Claire chose the restaurant,’ he adds to me. ‘Isn’t it great?’

‘Fab!’ I say, and take a seat on a really uncomfortable painted wooden chair.

‘So, this was a surprise,’ says Claire impassively.

‘Yes! So, what exactly happened?’ I try to sound casual. ‘How did this all get arranged?’

‘Your husband messaged me on Facebook and said you really wanted to hang out with me.’ Claire eyes me. ‘He said you kept saying what a shame it was that we’d lost touch.’

‘Right.’

I’m still smiling, while my mind darts frenziedly around my options. Do I tell her the truth and have a little laugh and ask her to keep it quiet? No. She’s not that sort. She’d blurt it out to Dan in a heartbeat, I can tell, and he’d be crushed.

I have to go with this.

Somehow.

‘I thought it was a bit strange, to be honest,’ says Claire. ‘Hearing from you.’

‘Well, you know!’ I say, over-brightly. ‘You get to that age and you look back and you think … what did happen to Claire and … the gang?’

‘The gang?’ Claire frowns blankly.

‘You know!’ I say. ‘Everyone! All our mates! Like … er …’

I can’t remember a single name of anyone that Claire might have known. We hung out in different circles. Yes, we were in the same halls – and didn’t we once play in a netball match together, when I was co-opted on to the team? Maybe that’s how Dan got confused. Maybe he saw an old photo online. But that was our only point of connection. We weren’t bloody friends.

‘I’m in touch with Husky,’ allows Claire.

‘Husky!’ I say shrilly. ‘How’s—’

He? She? Who the hell was Husky? I should look more closely at Facebook. But quite honestly, since the twins, I don’t have time to check up on all my 768 ‘friends’ the whole time. I barely keep up with my real ones.

‘I’m still in touch with Sam … Phoebe … Freya … all the art history lot,’ I volunteer. ‘Phoebe’s just got married, actually.’

‘Right,’ says Claire with a dampening lack of interest. ‘I never really got on with them.’

Oh God. This is painful. Where’s that bottle of fizz got to?

‘You and your husband, you’re not selling something, are you?’ says Claire, eyeing me suddenly with suspicion.

‘No!’

‘Or trying to convert me? Are you Mormons?’

‘No.’ I half want to cry and half want to break into hysterical laughter. We had tickets for Tim Wender … ‘Look, here’s Dan with the bottle of fizz. Let’s have a drink.’

It’s an ordeal. The food (mostly beans) is dry and bland. The cava is acidic. The conversation is sparse and difficult, like digging for carrots in rock-hard soil. Claire doesn’t give a lot. I mean, she really makes it hard. How on earth does she motivate a research team at GlaxoSmithKline? The only plus of the experience is, it’s made me want to call up all my real friends and gratefully fall into their conversational laps.

At last we get in the cab that Dan’s ordered to take us home and wave goodbye. (We offered a lift to Claire, who declined, thank God.) Then Dan leans back in his seat in satisfaction.

‘That was amazing,’ I say hastily. ‘Just amazing!’

He grins. ‘You liked it, huh?’

‘I was blown away,’ I say truthfully. ‘To think you went to all that trouble … I’m so touched.’ I reach over to kiss him. ‘Overwhelmed.’

And I really am. Arranging a reunion was the most thoughtful thing to do. He couldn’t have chosen a better treat. (Except if it was with, you know, someone I actually liked.)

‘She’s not what I imagined,’ Dan says, curiously. ‘Was she such a fierce vegan at uni?’

‘Well …’ I have no idea. ‘Maybe not that fierce.’

‘And her views on composting.’ He widens his eyes. ‘She’s quite vociferous, isn’t she?’

Dan just made one flip remark and had to put up with a humourless rant, which he took in the best possible spirit. All for me. I could see him peering at Claire, thinking, Why on earth did Sylvie want to get back in touch with her?

I bite my lip, trying to quell a rising laugh. One day I’ll tell him the truth. Like, in a year’s time. (Maybe five years’ time.)

‘Anyway,’ says Dan as the cab swings round a corner. ‘I have one surprise left.’

‘Me too.’ I touch his knee. ‘Mine’s a sexy surprise. Is yours?’

‘It’s pretty sexy.’ He meets my eyes and I can see the glint in them, and then we’re kissing properly, passionately, just like we used to do in taxis all the time, before the ‘back seat’ meant ‘two car seats and bumper wet wipes, just in case’.

My surprise is some tingly massage oil. It’s supposed to be ‘super-stimulating’, not that Dan seems as though he needs much extra stimulation today. I wonder what his surprise is? Underwear, maybe? Agent Provocateur?

‘I can’t wait,’ I murmur into his neck, and I stay nestled up against him all the way home.

As we head into the house, the girls come running to greet us, shrieking something about a ballet show, and Karen follows behind, her eyes shining in expectation.

‘Was it awesome?’ she demands, then turns to me. ‘Now you see why I chose Dan’s surprise. A reunion! I mean, a reunion!’

‘Yes!’ I try to match her tone. ‘It … blew me away!’

Dan’s phone bleeps with a text and his eyes gleam. ‘Already!’ he says, then looks up. ‘Karen, you can go now. Thanks so much for stepping in.’

‘Of course!’ says Karen. ‘Any time!’

Dan looks suddenly keyed up, I realize. Really keyed up. As Karen waves goodbye and shuts the door behind her, he starts tapping a text into his phone. Is this about the sexy surprise?

‘So, shall we plan the rest of the day?’ I say. ‘Or …?’

‘In a minute,’ says Dan, as though barely hearing me. ‘In a minute.’

The atmosphere has become weirdly tense. Dan’s mouth keeps twitching into a smile. He keeps glancing down at his phone and walking to the front door and back. He seems in such a ferment that I feel a squirm of excitement myself. What on earth is his sexy surprise? If it’s that epic, should we have gone to a hotel for the night?

The doorbell suddenly rings and we both jump.

‘What’s that?’ I say.

‘A delivery.’ Dan’s mouth won’t stop twitching. ‘A very special delivery.’ He opens the door and a delivery man in a black anorak nods curtly at him.

‘All right? Dan Winter, is it?’

‘Yes!’ says Dan. ‘All ready.’

‘We’ll get it out the van, then. Will we be all right, spacewise?’ The guy comes in a step and peers around.

Dan nods. ‘I think so. You should be able to get it through the hall.’

I’m gaping at them in shock. Get what through the hall? This isn’t a set of underwear from Agent Provocateur, is it? It’s something that needs two men to haul it out of a van.

Oh my God, it’s not some sort of … equipment? Should I hurry the girls away before they glimpse something that will scar them for life?

‘Can you take the girls upstairs, Sylvie?’ says Dan in unreadable tones, and my heart flips over. ‘Just until I say so.’

‘OK!’ I say, my voice a bit strangled. What has Dan done?

I hustle the girls into their room and read them a Winnie-the-Pooh story in a self-conscious voice, all the while thinking: erotic chair? Erotic sofa? Erotic … oh God, what else is there? A sex swing? (No, Dan couldn’t have ordered that. Our joists would never support a swing.)

I’m desperate to google big sex item needs delivery in van on my phone, only the girls are bound to grab it. (This is the trouble with your children learning to read.) So I just have to sit there, talking about Heffalumps, getting into a lather of suspicion and fantasy … when, at last, I hear the front door slamming and the sound of Dan’s tread on the stairs.

‘Come downstairs,’ he says, looking round the door, his whole face glowing. ‘I have quite a surprise for you.’

‘Surprise!’ yells Tessa joyfully, and I glance at her in alarm.

‘Dan, should the girls …’ I give him a meaningful glance. ‘Is this suitable?’

‘Of course!’ says Dan. ‘Go to the kitchen, girls. You won’t believe your eyes!’

The kitchen?

OK, I’m really not following this.

‘Dan,’ I demand as we go downstairs, the girls hurrying ahead. ‘I don’t understand. Is this your sexy surprise?’

‘It certainly is.’ He nods beatifically. ‘But not just sexy … beautiful. She’s beautiful.’

She?

‘Arrrggh! A snake!’ Tessa comes bombing out of the kitchen and wraps her arms round my legs. ‘There’s a snake in the kitchen!’

‘What?’ My heart thumping, I skitter into the kitchen, turn around and immediately jump back six feet. Oh my God. Oh my God.

Lined up against the wall, where our toy box used to be, is a glass tank. Inside the glass tank is a snake. It’s orange and brown and has a black snakey eye and I think I might vomit.

‘Wh – wh—’ I’m gibbering. I’m actually unable to form words. ‘Wh—’

‘Surprise!’ Dan has followed me in. ‘Isn’t she lovely? She’s a corn snake. Bred for captivity, so you don’t have to worry about her getting upset.’

That’s not what I was worried about.

‘Dan.’ Finally I find my voice and grab his lapels. ‘We can’t have a snake.’

‘We have a snake,’ Dan corrects me. ‘What shall we call her, girls?’

‘Snakey,’ says Tessa.

‘No!’ I’m nearly hyperventilating. ‘I won’t have a snake! Not in the house! I won’t do it, Dan!’

At last, Dan looks at me properly. Eyebrows raised innocently. As though I’m the one who’s being unreasonable. ‘What’s the big deal?’

‘You said you were getting something sexy!’ I hiss furiously. ‘Sexy, Dan!’