And then an unsettling thought struck her: he hadn’t told her he loved her. The hours they’d spent in bed together, and he hadn’t told her he’d loved her. But then nor had she told him. Did she need to have done? Wasn’t it writ large? Why then was he at the hotel, eating breakfast with Dickie and Lulu as though nothing had happened? As if she didn’t matter?

She would never have done that. She would never have betrayed Alice, or betrayed herself by doing that, unless she thought it was worth it. Unless she thought that she and Ted had a real chance at something.

She was crying before she realised she was, crying until she was struggling to catch her breath, crying until everything hurt. Her head and her heart. Panic seared through her, blistering and raw. She turned off her phone, threw it against the wall and briefly felt better. She threw other things then – cushions, books, throws – stopping only when her movement emitted a nauseating flush of Ted’s aftershave from her T-shirt, which she’d slipped on after they’d slept together and he’d lain against as they spoke in quiet voices about what to do.

She could still smell him on her skin, her fingertips, could still feel his hands gripping her thighs. She got into the shower, scrubbing at her scalp, scrubbing at every part of her skin that he’d touched. She banged her head against the shower tiles in frustration. She would never have done that.

She was a different person now. Changed. She was a person who would sleep with her best friend’s fiancé.

It didn’t matter that she’d loved him first! she thought angrily as she drove a fist into the tiles, the grouting scratching over her knuckles. It didn’t matter!

She would never have done that to Alice.

She sobbed until her throat was sore and dry, until the water in the shower ran cold, until there was nothing left. Then she sat shivering, on the empty floor of the tub, her hands wrapped round her shaking legs, and cried some more.

Sometime later she heard a fist pounding on her door and to her shame she thought: Ted. She wrapped a towel around her and ran, wrenching the door open to a furious-looking Jules, who had her hair pinned up and was wearing a mac.

*

‘Jesus, Nina. I’ve been banging on the door for twenty minutes. Do you want us both to be late for this wedding?’ She took her in, her bloodshot eyes, her red, scalded skin, and put her hands on her wet shoulders. ‘What’s happened?’ As she moved her hands her mac fell open, revealing a button-front slip dress. ‘Alice has everyone wearing these while their hair and make-up’s being done,’ she explained, looking down at herself and rolling her eyes.

‘I was being sick,’ Nina said in a small voice. ‘I told you. I think I ate something.’ It was like she had shrunk, halved in size or more. She looked like she barely had the energy to stand.