‘I’ve just been thinking a lot about our friendship and how it occurred.’

‘I’ve been a little nostalgic—’

‘No, I don’t mean nostalgic. I mean re-evaluative, if that’s even a word. Have you not, too? It all feels like it’s been a bit of a blur until now, but I’m slowing down and taking stock.’ She flicks the loose edge of the label on her beer bottle with her nail. ‘Have you never thought that day on the dual carriageway forced us to be friends?’

‘Forced us?’

‘You know how you’re friends with people at school because you’re in the same class? You’re sort of institutionalised. What even makes you make friends with someone when you’re older? Would we have found each other naturally? Would we have forged a friendship, naturally?’

‘Probably.’ A cupboard opens in my mind and I see that day, by the dual carriageway. Then my heart beats and the cupboard slams shut. ‘Do you think she’s better than me because she’s younger? Do you think that’s why he’s gone for her? I always saw him with an older woman, but he’s got a surreptitious agenda – I know it, even if he doesn’t.’

Kelly looks at me sadly.

‘I love you for a whole variety of reasons, Jenny.’

I swell at this.

‘And I think some of them have run out.’

I shrink.

‘You haven’t always been this fragile maniac. You used to run at things. You used to have everything you needed. You used to not look back. I don’t know whether you noticed – to be honest I don’t know what you notice any more, other than the way you come across to certain strangers – but I don’t have many friends. You’re one of a handful of people I can really talk to. Could really talk to. All I see of you now is this phony self-promoting person who I don’t know.’

‘Well, they do say that the people you know the best are the people you end up hating the most on social media. You see through the façade. Otherwise you just think, oh there’s that fabulous person having a glorious time.’

‘Stop with the theories! You’re wasting time caring about all this superficial shit while the world goes to Hell in a handcart. Babies are in cages on the Mexican border. Someone I went to school with just set up a food bank in my hometown.’

‘I am very aware of reality. I’m a journalist.’

‘You’re a fucking child! I have empathy fatigue where you’re concerned. And I’m not even sure it’s just – well. Maybe we’re done. Maybe we’re just done. Now. At this point.’ She nods to the waiter.

‘Don’t say that.’

She shrugs.

The waiter starts heading over. ‘Are you ready to order?’ he says.