‘You fucking, fucking…bitch! Why have you been ignoring me? Why are you here with Leanne? Where have you been? What’s wrong with you? Have I done something? Oh, yeah, I have done something, I’ve been making a bloody go of my life, all by myself, while snivelling, shitty…ex friend…weasels are weaselling their way into bullies’…bosoms!’ I’m pacing, I’m screaming, I’m crying, all at the same time. I have never, ever argued with Jen, it’s all coming out and it won’t stop. ‘You’re being her bridesmaid? She got Steve to piss in my shoes, Jen. Don’t you remember? And then told everyone I stank because I was poor? She made me cry, she made me frightened, and you’re going to be her…’ I’m crying so hard I can’t speak any more. I want to hit Jen, an urge that scares me. My vision is blurring, and I grope for something to throw. There’s a roll of toilet paper by the sink. I hurl it at her as hard as I can, but it unfurls from my hand and flutters to the ground. As I watch it settle on the floor, I fail to suppress a sob. I’m no better than Dad.

Jen is indignant. ‘Imogen, it’s not been easy for me, either.’

‘Yeah? Which bit? Lying on the sofa, watching daytime telly, or getting your meals cooked by Su?’ In this moment, I’m powerless to stop the poison pouring out of me.

‘Fuck you, Imogen!’ Jen snaps back. ‘You have everything now. Do you think it’s been fun for me, being stuck back here, feeling like a failure? Always being second best, since school? It’s never my turn! What about what I want?’

‘You gave up!’

‘It’s not fair!’ Jen is crying too. ‘I do the sensible thing, the responsible thing, and where’s it getting me? Nowhere. It’s you who’s got the big break!’

‘If this was happening to you, I’d be happy for you, Jen! I’d want to celebrate with you. I wouldn’t be drinking with someone who tried to ruin your life!’

‘Yeah, well.’ Jen looks down, and up at me, and down again, weighing her words. ‘I wouldn’t be putting my sex life out in the open, for everyone to read about, like a…slut.’

I do not trust myself to speak. I leave the toilets, and return to the table, where my coat is. Where my wine is.

‘Leanne. Lovely to see you, but I’ve got to go back to London, Madonna’s having a party. Take care!’ Can I do this? Can I pull it off? I pull the coat off the back of my chair with a flourish, accidentally on purpose knocking my wine all over Leanne. ‘So sorry, clumsy me! Hope it didn’t go in your shoes!’