‘I would love to do more of this, but I don’t think I can,’ she said. ‘I have the kids, and I’m still finding my way with Charlotte…’

Charlotte’s diagnosis had been helpful, because it forced the school to put in place more support for her, but beyond that Charlotte remained a puzzle for her parents, or in this case Alice, to figure out. Even her privately funded paediatrician had suggested she ‘look up some groups on Facebook for ideas’. She shook her head at the memory. There were so many girls – and boys – like Charlotte not getting the help they needed, and it wasn’t right. It made her think of Jules. The charity auction she set up. She wondered what was happening with that now. She hadn’t heard anything from Jules. She looked her up on social media every now and then but there’d been no posts, no updates. Alice was sure if Jules had fallen pregnant there’d have been a reference to it on Instagram by now. She didn’t think Jules would be able to resist after all those years of having to trawl through other people’s pregnancy announcements. Or maybe for that reason she wouldn’t post about it? Alice mused. Jules was a good person, after all. A good person who couldn’t be bothered to let Alice know why she’d abandoned her in Paris.

She hadn’t heard from Nina either and she’d come so close to messaging her a few days ago. She’d have loved the conversation Alice had had to endure in the playground. She’d been standing behind Chernoble, who was waxing lyrical to the Glossy Mums about apples. She’d lowered her voice, as though ‘apples’ were a dirty word:

‘I’ve tried to kick Percy’s apple habit, but he’s still having three a day,’ she’d confided. ‘They’re like crack to him!’ she cackled. ‘But no wonder, their sugar content is sky high.’

‘I had a friend at university who would have an apple instead of a coffee when she was revising late at night,’ crowed Philippa, nodding vigorously.

Alice had clocked Chernoble tipping her head and eyes in her direction mischievously, so she knew what was coming. ‘How many apples a day does Charlotte have, Alice?’ She raised her voice imperiously, a glint in her eye. Alice had simply laughed, much to Chernoble’s chagrin. Where once this sort of thing would have paralysed Alice, since her life had fallen apart she found she was a lot less bothered about playground antics. Which could only be a good thing.

Vita’s dogs – small, yappy things – barked downstairs and Vita went to open the door, shushing and babying them in Greek.

While she was waiting, Alice walked over to Vita’s mirror. She turned, looking at her neck: her Eiffel Tower tattoo. What had happened with her friends? She opened When in Paris, her finger hovering as she considered leaving the group once and for all, but her heart jump-started. Nina was online. Jules was online! Her finger moved tantalisingly over the text box, tempted to type ‘hello?’ But the last message in the group, her last message, hung above it: