This morning I woke up with a huge buzz, feeling so happy I thought I might pop. It was bucketing down outside, but Jack brought an umbrella to protect my killer new frock between our front door and the taxi taking us to the pub.
All our friends and family were there, everyone we needed, warming themselves beside the sparking January pub fireplaces. Liz and Adam were talking to Iffy’s new boyfriend, Ava was dancing with tiny William, and Mum was forcing more food on Jack’s stepmum. Kat showed us a website on her phone – apparently Chuck had gone back to California and set himself up as a motivational speaker. His ‘About’ page was simply a slow slideshow of the incomprehensible presentation he’d made to KSTW.
Food, done. Drinks, flowing. Music, about to be dimmed so Jack and I could make our speech. We’d ummm-ed and ahhh-ed about how to do it, but ultimately we thought that at our anniversary party, we could at least get everything cleared up in one fell swoop – although most people were baffled as to why we were having this party at all, given the year we’d had.
The DJ turned the music off. Jack and I stood up, and I tapped a glass.
There were fewer tears, shouts or questions than we’d expected when we announced our upcoming divorce and plan to remain together regardless. We both looked so happy, Mum said, why would anyone do anything but join the unusual toast. So it looked like the party was going to be fine.
Right up until the point that Jack broke the news to our guests that his company had offered him a new design role in their lead Berlin store, and he’d be coming with me – straight from the party, in fact.
Then the celebrations really kicked off.