‘But you have friends, surely,’ I said. I couldn’t even force my voice to be kind. Michael and Amanda had barely been in touch; this version of their relationship was simply not true, and I would not collude with it. I went round, I saw her, because my husband wouldn’t. He couldn’t bear her. I insisted she come for Christmas, made sure, if we were at my parents’, which we nearly always were, that she came too, even though Michael would complain. I always insisted the children saw their Aunt Amanda. I was the one who invited her to school plays, carol concerts, even on holiday once – a complete disaster, but I’d done it. Michael had barely allowed us to leave the villa – oh, Amanda knew about her brother and to pretend otherwise was disingenuous – and Amanda got drunk every night, and told us tales of men who’d let her down. Or betrayed her. Lured by her glamour and her money and, to be fair, her brain. Amanda wasn’t stupid. She could have done so much with her life. But these men soon realized what they had on their hands. A narcissist with a screw loose. And then they’d run a mile, lest they wake up in bed, as one poor chap did, being attacked with the heel of her stiletto shoe.

Likewise friends, even similarly rich, idle, self-obsessed ones, had not stayed the course. Amanda was incapable of talking about anyone but herself; her selfishness knew no bounds. So any conversation would automatically be dragged back to her. My suggestion, therefore, that she could rely on a chummy network, was about the most cruel I’d ever been. I regretted it immediately. I should have let her rant on as usual. But I was so angry with myself for being here, for becoming ensnared in this mesh again … She stopped. Went pale.

‘Friends,’ she hissed. ‘Oh, it’s all right for you. Surrounded by family and mothers of your children’s friends and Melissa across the road, plus your sister, a ready-made confidante. Have you any idea how impossible it is for someone like me to have a network like that?’ Her voice rose and the girl on the next table looked alarmed again. ‘Have you? And now that you’ve taken Michael from me, now that you’ve taken my only family member—’

‘Hang on,’ I interrupted sharply. ‘What d’you mean, I’ve taken him?’

‘Oh, don’t think I don’t know. Don’t think I don’t know that you somehow got rid of him, Lucy.’

I gasped. Pushed my chair back.

‘Don’t you dare,’ she breathed.

I realized she was watching me intently, like a fox stalking its prey. I had to think fast. And not run. I pulled my chair back in.