She had me in a vice-like grip; to shake her off would have been difficult. It would have caused a scene. Already the young couple beside us had paused in their meal. The girl, facing me, looked concerned. I sat, slowly. Amanda kept her grip on my wrist, though. Our scallops arrived. She had to release me. To run would have been cowardly; plus, I wasn’t at all sure she wouldn’t lunge after me. Another waitress appeared with the salads, removed the olives, and replaced them with a bread basket. She topped up the water glasses. It gave us both a moment to compose ourselves. To breathe. My heart was beating fast, though. Amanda still looked unhinged and wild-eyed. She poured herself more wine with a shaking hand. I sipped my water instead.

‘The thing is,’ she began, and her face suddenly buckled. I realized she was on the verge of tears. ‘The thing is, Michael was all I had. Literally all I had in the world. After our parents …’ She fought for composure and I screamed inside.

Here we go again. I wasn’t sure which was worse, the naked aggression or the self-pity. How many years had I sat and listened, first with horror and sadness, then compassion, then, increasingly, with frustration, to what was about to pour forth? About the two lonely, lost orphans who only had each other. And of course it was dreadful, but it was also hundreds of years ago, and many people had experienced similar tragedies and somehow overcome them, and gone on to live decent, fulfilled lives. And whilst it would always be with them, they hadn’t let it define them. Amanda had. And always would, until she died. She would always be Orphan Annie.

I listened and nodded and looked sympathetic and picked at my scallops which were slippery and slimy. Like her, I thought, as I passed her a napkin. Tears were coursing down her face. Manipulative. Always. And of course she needed professional help, but trust me, she had it in spades. It was all she did with her life. Grief counsellor on Monday. CBT on Tuesday. Group therapy at the Priory on alternate Fridays. She needed to get on. I gripped my fork as I picked at my salad, wondering when I could leave.

‘And now Michael’s gone too, so I’m totally alone.’