“Why can’t we see where you live?” Madeleine asked, sounding peevish as she wound her scarf tightly and tugged her Cossack hat farther onto her head. “I want to see this famed student lifestyle I’m missing out on by actually gaining relevant experience in the workplace.”

“And meet your friends!” Beebz added before giving Susan a doubtful look. “Assuming you have any . . .”

“What do you think?” Susan shot back, playing into her friend’s expectations with a little misdirection before hurrying in the opposite direction of Catterick Hall.

“The old Susie P would have been perfectly happy for us all to hang in her room, smoking her way through a bottle of whisky in her PJs,” Beebz muttered.

“What kind of host would I be if I didn’t show you the sights of Sheffield? Look”—she pointed down a nearby alley—“a fox dragging a trash bag across the street. Bet you don’t get that kind of wildlife in Birmingham.”

Susan knew that Beebz and Madeleine would love Esther and Daisy just as much as she did. Well, actually, probably not; Susan was a lot fonder of those two scamps than she liked to admit. But that wasn’t the point.

Beebz and Madeleine had known Susan a long time—and with a long-shared history came long-shared memories. With Esther’s unquenchable thirst for gossip and Daisy’s innocent charm, it would take all of five minutes of shared conversation for Susan’s past to spill over into her present, muddying everything up and making things messy.

This was her shiny new life, and for a while at least, Susan wanted to keep it that way.

As they passed a crowd standing outside one of the chains, Madeleine—conspicuous in her tall boots and bright clothes—drew a chorus of wolf whistles. In perfect synchrony, Susan and Beebz flipped the boys off.

“Good to know Sheffield has its fair share of skeevy lads for you to wreak vengeance upon,” Beebz said with an impish grin.

“Mate. You have no idea . . .” Susan slung an arm around her friend’s shoulders, ready to regale her with what had happened when a disgusting group of tosspots had posted Esther’s picture on a website called Bantserve, when Madeleine slowed her pace and turned to give Susan a shrewd look.

“And I hear that a certain Graham McGraw is one of them?”

Susan didn’t miss the look that passed between her two friends.

“How’s he doing these days?” asked Beebz.

“Don’t know.”

“You know he broke up with Kylie Traynor, right?”

“Don’t care.”

“It’s a shame you and he never—”

“Don’t.”

Ushering Beebz and Madeleine into the first pub she could find that advertised food, she hoped that the crush of the crowd and the stress of finding a table might prove sufficiently distracting, but once they were sitting down, food ordered, and drinks in hand, the conversation continued in the same hateful direction.