Watching her pull the black stilettos on, James realised they were the same pair she’d worn to the party last year. They were her favourites.

Nobody’ll be thinking about Sarah’s shoes tonight though will they?

It was true. Tonight would bring the pitying glances, the awkward silences and the hushed conversations in dark corners, with accompanying finger-pointing in Sarah’s direction.

He knew she looked gorgeous. The dress was perfect, the hair immaculate; it was just her life that was a mess. James never meant to look impatient, but there wasn’t time to be perfect any more. It was too late for that.

A year ago, her hand stroking softly over his back would have taken all the stress away – now it was just a reminder that there was nothing left to say, and fleeting moments of contact were all that remained.

A year ago, James would have turned to his wife and held her in his arms, telling her everything was going to be OK.

But that wasn’t enough any more.

Cancer doesn’t work like that.