‘The morning-after pill? Tell her to go to the pharmacy. Any pharmacy.’ Agitated as I was, even I could see that this was elementary.

‘She doesn’t want them judging her.’

‘They won’t judge her.’ Well, they might, it depended on the individual pharmacist, but it wouldn’t kill her.

‘She wants to see a GP.’

‘No one’s stopping her.’ I paused. ‘Or are they?’

‘Luke isn’t here, he’s over with his dad, he’s not answering his phone. She’s uncomfortable asking Devin’s mum, she doesn’t want people knowing her business.’

‘…But you know it. And I know it.’

‘And I know it.’ Quin had been listening avidly.

‘She asked if I could get her an appointment with my—our—GP,’ Kate said. ‘But they’ve closed for St Patrick’s Day. I guess I could ring Mum and ask her—’

This was absolute nonsense. ‘Kate, she should just talk to Luke.’

‘I told you, he’s not picking up.’

Quin was clicking on his phone. ‘How about my GP? There’s a slot free at eleven forty-five. If she wants it?’

Silently, furiously, I shook my head at him.

But Kate had overheard. ‘What’s Quin saying?’

I didn’t reply.

‘Rachel…?’ Kate pressed.

Oh, for God’s sake! ‘He says he could get an appointment at his doctor’s. At eleven forty-five.’

‘Okay, great!’ After a muffled consultation with another person—Kallie, I presumed?—Kate came back. ‘Book it. Where should we go?’

‘Tell them to come here,’ Quin said. ‘The appointment’s for me, I’ll have to go with her.’

As soon as I hung up, I turned to him. ‘What the actual fuck?’ This was the strangest thing. Did Luke know? He absolutely didn’t, I decided. There were several hundred people he’d prefer his partner to ask for help before me.

‘She wants to meet you.’ Quin seemed entertained. ‘Guess you’re not going to yoga.’

‘Why?’

‘You know you want a proper look at her.’

Well, yes, I did. But also I didn’t. Curiosity had me in a painful grip. The woman Luke loved was coming here. For me to—allegedly—help her. However this went down, there would be a price to pay.

I’d better start getting ready. ‘I’m going to jump into the shower. Is my hair okay? Do I need to wash it?’

Quin studied me. ‘Maybe. Yeah. Wait, I’ll come with you, I’ll do it.’

Having Quin in the shower with me usually led to a lot more than hair-washing. ‘Hon, maybe not right now. I feel too…’

‘Uh…Sure.’ He was disappointed. But he’d live.

It was frustrating—extremely—not having access to my full range of clothes and make-up. Instead, I had to attempt a natural, hey-I-just-woke-up-like-this look with the random bits and pieces that had accumulated at Quin’s.