‘How am I meant to know the rules? Nobody explained. All I knew was she said if I didn’t enjoy myself, she’d laugh at me. So I did what I was told, I did enjoy myself and now she’s furious. Jesus, he’s taking the coat off.’

Luke was shrugging his jacket back from his shoulders, revealing dark jeans and a black, fitted shirt.

‘Very…lithe, isn’t he?’ Adam asked. ‘Is that the word I mean?’

I didn’t know but my heart hurt with how much I wanted him.

‘Like, you’d swear he’d practised that jacket thing. I hear he goes horse-riding these days.’ Bitterly he said, ‘Figures. I’ll be honest, Rachel, I wasn’t happy you broke up, that would be going too far, he was nice—well, before he wasn’t—but I was never comfortable with him. I don’t get his look and we’ve nothing in common. Quin is much more my type.’ He glanced around. ‘Where is he?’

‘Not coming.’

His glance flicked to Luke and back to me, then he exclaimed, ‘You’re fucking joking.’ He looked horribly concerned. ‘Because of him?’ He nodded across at Luke.

‘No. Well…’

‘I can’t,’ Adam managed. ‘I really can’t.’ He’d spotted a roving waitress with a tray of champagne and dived at her. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered, gratefully accepting a glass. ‘You’re very kind.’

‘What’s up with him?’ Helen had appeared in a tight little black dress.

Flanking Helen was her Best Friend, Bella Devlin.

‘Bella,’ I said. ‘How lovely to…You look…’ I couldn’t find an adequately effusive word for her fair, pale-skinned perfection. ‘Beautiful.’

To be accurate, Bella looked as though the air she breathed was the purest oxygen, that she only drank water from melted glaciers and that her every thought was good and loving.

‘Rachel.’ Bella took my hands between hers—her social skills were impeccable. ‘You’re breathtaking.’

‘You’re more. You’re breathtaking to the moon and back.’ Sooner rather than later, I usually let myself down around her. ‘Tell me about your dress.’ Because there was always a story. Bella Devlin would never say, ‘This fucking thing? Karen Millen! Two years ago. There was a tear in the hem so I got twenty euro off.’

‘It was my mum’s wedding dress,’ Bella said.

But of course it was—the dress was red and, apart from a mandarin collar, super-plain.

‘Dior,’ Bella Devlin said. ‘Crêpe de Chine. Vintage.’

‘Vintage vintage,’ Helen clarified. ‘It was vintage when Vonnie got married. So now it’s vintage squared.’

Another tray of champagne flutes appeared and Adam, who’d devoted himself to swigging down the glass he already had, once again made a lunge.

‘Have you anything non-alcoholic?’ I asked the server. ‘Tap water is fine.’

‘And for me,’ Bella said. (She didn’t drink, even though her parents said she could.)