‘What does it matter to you anyway? She’s not bothered,’ he says, pointing at Dolly, whose eyes are now closed.

‘You’re an idiot,’ Yvonne says.

Blackface begins to back away.

‘Geoff,’ Emma calls as she walks in the room. She grabs him for a kiss. ‘Oh, you met Yvonne?’

‘What the hell, Emma?’

‘Sorry, I got talking. So glad you met Geoff. Do you love him?’ She squeezes herself onto the end of the futon.

‘That’s Geoff?’

‘Yeah and trust me, he’s not that colour all over.’

‘I can’t believe you’re going out with the kind of person who thinks it’s okay to come in blackface to a party.’

‘He’s not in blackface. He’s Daddy Lazarou. I don’t know what that is, but everyone thinks it’s really funny.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘I didn’t live in the UK through the Nineties. I don’t get most of these pop culture references. I don’t think it’s a racist thing though.’ There’s a black smear on her cheek. ‘Did you try that bean chilli? Gross. I’ve literally been on the toilet for twenty minutes.’ Yvonne sighs and Emma pokes her in the ribs, ‘I forget how moody you are at parties. Is it because of the theme? Because you’re too cool to do fancy dress now?’

‘No, it’s not because of the theme.’

‘Then, it’s because you’re not drunk yet. Drunk Yvonne is so much fun.’

‘I don’t want to get drunk. I’ve got work tomorrow.’ For effect she adds, ‘Early.’

‘You’ve got the rest of your life to work. Have a drink.’

‘No. And anyway, you’re not drunk. You’re not even tipsy.’ Yvonne takes the cup from Emma’s hand and confirms she’s right. ‘Lemonade? Bit of out of character. At your own party?’

‘I got fucking dengue fever in Kenya. I’m still trying to wean myself off antibiotics. You’re the only person who’s noticed.’

‘That’s because I know you too well.’

Emma bumps her shoulder against Yvonne’s. ‘I think in this situation, you need to drink for both of us.’

‘Em, if I don’t leave now, I’ll miss the last tube.’

‘So? You can stay over. Crash with me. We haven’t even hung out properly yet. My room is on the top floor, the noise won’t travel up.’

It would be nice to hang out like that, to stay up all night with Emma sharing a bottle of wine and talking. But this isn’t uni anymore and Yvonne’s priorities have changed.

‘You can be late in one day,’ Emma says, ‘it’s not going to kill—’

‘No, I can’t be late,’ she says, too abruptly. ‘My job is important to me. I told you I was only going to show my face tonight.’