Some hours later, Maggie, Em and Olivia were still out there by the pool, even though it was almost midnight. Up above, the stars were a handful of silver glitter against the inky black while the moon cast glimmering ripples of light into the water. The air smelled of wine and chlorine, with just a faint hint of ozone from the distant sea carried on the breeze.

There was quite a collection of empty bottles and glasses around them by now; that little drink and chat Maggie had envisaged when she’d first walked out towards Em had turned into a much longer session. At some point Olivia had pleaded starvation and gone inside to make herself dinner, returning with a plate of pasta and salad on a tray, as well as a whole garlic baguette for them to share. Some time after that, Em had popped indoors to make sure her children were okay and to tell them to start getting ready for bed. And once the sun had vanished and the temperature began to plummet, Maggie had suggested bringing their duvets out to keep themselves warm, because none of them quite wanted the evening to end just yet. Now they were comfortably rugged-up and cosy on their sun loungers, laughing and exchanging confidences like girls on a sleepover. And oh, what a lot of ground they had covered tonight.

Urged on by the others, Maggie had replied to Paul’s text – and, believe it or not, she’d asked him out. Suggested a date and time and everything. He’d already replied saying Great, he’d love that, and she kept flipping from freaking out with panic to feeling excited and looking forward to it. True passion awaits, teased the memory of the fortune cookie. Well, she didn’t know about that, but it definitely felt as if something lovely might be waiting on the horizon, hers for the taking.

They’d gone on to discuss Em’s love life next, even though earlier she had told them she didn’t want to talk about it. She was pretty circumspect about what had happened – something to do with her daughter, Maggie gleaned – and seemed pessimistic about the chances of getting back together with George. ‘And his ex is an absolute raving beauty,’ she’d slurred, tossing another glass of wine down her throat.

Maggie couldn’t help herself. ‘So are you,’ she had cried, because truly Em was exactly the sort of woman she’d always envied: pretty, vivacious, sparklier than a whole string of Christmas lights. ‘You’re gorgeous,’ she told her, ‘and I’ve had more fun with you tonight than anyone else in years.’