‘I’ve never known anyone quite so fascinated by herself as Ines. Her life is a permanent existential crisis,’ Marie-Claire moaned to Ella, one Saturday afternoon, about six weeks into the job, having had enough of Ines’s traumas to last a lifetime. ‘And what with Chloe thinking she’s some sort of high-powered executive à la Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada, it’s no wonder I end up doing most of the work. I can’t stay there, Ella,’ Marie-Claire declared.

She and Ella were marching in a Pro-Choice demonstration in Dublin, ahead of the upcoming referendum to repeal an amendment to the constitution, which currently forced women to travel abroad for abortion – sometimes with tragic consequences.

‘Let me have a look and see what’s on the books,’ Ella soothed, attributing her friend’s moroseness to her lack of satisfaction at work.

‘I dunno. Maybe I should go back to Canada,’ Marie-Claire mused as the good-humoured marchers around them chanted slogans.

‘You haven’t really given it a chance,’ Ella responded, tucking her arm in Marie-Claire’s.

‘It’s weird, Ella. It’s hard to settle back. Everything and everyone’s changed. They’ve all moved on with their lives. I feel a bit of an outsider, to be honest.’

‘It’s going to take a bit of time, ducky. We’re not fresh out of college and rarin’ to go anymore. Most of us are tied down by kids and mortgages.’

‘I know. It’s all about the kids now, and maybe that’s why I’m feeling like an outsider. ‘Maybe I feel left behind.’

‘Did you feel like this in Canada?’

‘Nope. I felt totally in control, vibrant, anticipatory. The complete opposite to what I feel here.’

‘And if you go back to Canada, do you think you’ll feel like that again, without Marc in your life?’ Ella asked delicately.

‘I don’t know. I would hope so. I didn’t hand all my power over to him!’ Marie-Claire retorted indignantly.

‘Good. I never thought you did. That’s not you.’

‘I’m still gutted though.’

‘Why wouldn’t you be? It’s still early days. Break-ups are like bereavements, it takes time to get over them. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Come on. Cheer up. Take your selfie to post on your “I’m not missing you, dickhead” Facebook page,’ Ella grinned.

‘Ha ha!’ Marie-Claire retorted. ‘When you say it like that, you make me feel like a silly teenager.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’d do the same if I was in your shoes.’

‘No you wouldn’t. You’d have kicked him in the goolies and given him a bloody nose to boot.’ Marie-Claire gave her friend a hug. Ella was a far more forceful character than she was and met things head on.