DESPERATELY SEEKING SUMMER

A short story by Caroline Roberts

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Summer is... eating alfresco with friends, a glass of chilled fizz and glossy red strawberries that taste like candyfloss.

The hostess with the mostess, calm and collected, drifting in a floaty floral dress, is putting the final touches to her gingham-clothed table, where flowers, freshly picked from the garden, are creatively displayed in jam jars and lanterns hang from an arbour of tree branches along with fete-like strands of sparkly fairy lights.

There are five minutes to go until arrival time, the clouds are thickening menacingly and instead of swanning about like Nigella Lawson to be frank, I don't have the looks or the cooking skills - I'm dashing around like a bluebottle, deciding whether my starter-style nibbles should stay out on the table or if I should rush back in with them.

Confession time, they are good old M&S's and not homemade. I had enough to do sorting a main and pudding after a busy week at the office.

I'd wanted it to be perfect, just for once. A gorgeously calm and rain-free soiree. My grownup daughter Alice's phrase, ringing like a warning in my ears, "That's Insta versus reality, Mum. Don't beat yourself up about it." But why didn't anything go to plan? My life, my marriage, a simple summer supper party? I'm back down at the house - minus the starters, which await their fate out on the dining table - ready to greet the guests. The doorbell rings right on cue. Deep breath, Sarah.

"And relax..." my best friend Jane's voice comes to mind, with echoes of our earlier conversation. "Just be you."