Julie sighed, dragged on her cigarette again. ‘It’s her, Rachel. They had jewellery – that bracelet she always wears. They described the tattoo on her wrist. The identification is just a formality. It’s definitely her.’

The feeling of that sliver of hope disintegrating almost broke me in two. ‘But maybe …’ I offered to no one in particular, the sentence dying on my lips as I realised how futile it was.

Julie just shook her head. ‘I wish. I really, really wish. I can’t stop wishing and hoping, but Ronan was as sure as he could be. He’s going with their parents. He says he’s not sure his mother or father will be up to the task of identifying her. He might have to do it.’

My heart ached for Ronan, Clare’s older brother by eighteen months. As much as he’d roll his eyes at us and our giggling, melodramatic, annoying teenage ways, he’d been almost as much a part of our gang back then as any of us were. He and Julie had even shared an ill-fated snog at the youth club Halloween disco once. It was such a drama at the time. Drama. We hadn’t known the meaning of the word.

This wasn’t how our lives were supposed to go. Julie, Clare and I – we were meant to live to a ripe old age and become our own version of the Golden Girls. This wasn’t meant to be how it ended. I wondered whether I should have a drink, after all. Numb the senses. Dull the edges, just as Julie was doing.

‘Do they know what happened?’ I asked, not sure if I was ready for the response.

Julie’s hand shook more as she took another sip from her glass, shuddering slightly as the vodka slid down her throat.

‘It definitely wasn’t an accident,’ she said. ‘He didn’t have details – I’m not even sure that I want to know them. But the police are treating it as a murder inquiry. I imagine it’ll be all over the news by teatime.’

Brendan walked back into the room and handed me a mug of tea, but my hand was shaking too much to hold it. I sat it on the coffee table in front of me and looked at my friend. I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know what to say. It was taking all my strength to keep breathing normally.