‘All the time.’ But I realised this wasn’t true. Somehow Zac was invariably nearby when I used my phone.

Milly went on. ‘He may not be controlling your money yet, but you will get sick of him, and when you try to leave he won’t make it easy. Mum and I are frightened. He’s cutting you off from us.’

I tried to lighten things. ‘Isn’t this a bit dramatic? I want to make a family with him. I want to make what you grew up in.’

‘And he fucking well knows it. He’s playing you. He’s saying what you want to hear.’

‘He’s loving. He cares for me.’ I threw up my hands, invisible in the darkness. ‘I matter to him.’

‘Of course you do. More than anything in the world. I’ve heard him say it and that’s what scares me. He chose you because he thinks you have no one. He thinks you’re all alone. But he’s wrong. You have us.’

Although I never felt the cold since becoming pregnant, I shivered. ‘I know that.’

‘Well don’t ever forget it.’ The light slowly returned as the cloud moved sideways to reveal the moon. Milly pulled away to study me. ‘At least you’re starting to look more like you again. Your face isn’t so thin and pale. And I love what you’re wearing.’

‘Chosen for you.’ I loved what I was wearing too. Green ankle boots, bobbled red wool tights, a short mustard tube skirt, and a fleecy orange jumper to disguise my thickening waist. I unzipped my coat and flashed the full view at Milly.

‘And Rainbow Girl is back!’ she said. ‘Goodbye, Grey Woman. Hello there, Rainbow Girl. We’ve missed you. I much prefer you in clothes I need to wear sunglasses to look at.’

‘Hello.’ I zipped up again.

‘Oh, don’t put it away. I want a pic to show Mum.’ Milly’s teeth were chattering.

‘You won’t get a pic out here. Not with the light changing every five seconds.’ The moon was flashing at us, off, on, off, on, as a procession of clouds sped past to eclipse and uncover her. She seemed to mirror the lighthouse’s lamp. For an instant, I glimpsed a frown that Milly didn’t imagine I could see. ‘How’s Gaston?’ I said.

‘I hate him so much,’ Milly said, ‘that I want him to die, because then I would get over him. But I can’t stop fucking him.’

It was my turn to snort my drink.

Milly went on. ‘I hate how he puts that fucking gross hairspray on that fucking gross long hair of his, and I wish it would catch fire when he fills that fucking gross old wreck of a car of his with petrol.’ She paused. ‘Look how – odd – you look.’