‘Marriage is death,’ Jo declared, staring daggers right at me. ‘It limits both parties, traps everyone financially and emotionally and forces people to become co-dependent. Did you know male suicide rates are soaring? It’s not just women that suffer in this shitty society, men are just as at risk, they’re not allowed to—’

‘The man who runs the club was asking if we wanted a DJ or a live band,’ I interrupted loudly, right as someone opened the door to the men’s changing room and left it swinging back and forth to reveal the elderly gentleman stepping into a jockstrap. Why did this keep happening to me? ‘Do you have a preference?’

‘Remind me to bring my AirPods,’ she groaned as I spun on my heel and turned to face the corner, praying that was not a glimpse into my future. Did all balls get that saggy? ‘Do not, under any circumstances, allow them to get a band. My boyfriend is a musician and I would rather eat red meat than make him suffer through any local shit.’

Jo had AirPods? I didn’t have AirPods.

‘You don’t eat meat?’ I wondered out loud. ‘And since when do you have a boyfriend? What happened to your girlfriend?’

‘Meat is killing the planet and if you’re not plant-based, so are you,’ she replied. ‘Don’t be so close-minded, you can have a girlfriend and a boyfriend at the same time, you know. He’s obsessed with me, it’s so cute, he’s so cute, we’ll probably move in together or whatever.’

I could not wait to see her try to explain that one to our parents.

‘I’ve got to go, I’m cooking dinner for the homeless shelter by the halls,’ Jo said, checking the time on an Apple Watch. Where was she getting all this stuff? Last Christmas, Mum and Dad had sent me an old-lady dressing gown from Marks & Spencer and a spiralizer. I lived in that bloody dressing gown. The spiralizer remained in its box.

‘That’s nice,’ I replied, smiling at my little sister. ‘How did you get into that?’

‘Wilf’s mum runs it?’ she said, as though I might know who Wilf was. ‘Wilf is my boyfriend? We’re going to give a lecture on the importance of avoiding conflict diamonds while they eat. It’s a cause Wilf feels, like, really strongly about.’

I chewed on the inside of my cheek for a moment.

‘You’re going to give a group of homeless people coming to a shelter to eat a meal a lecture on the ethics of the diamond industry?’

‘They’re homeless, not stupid,’ she snapped. ‘God, Ros, you’re such a bigot.’

And then she hung up.

‘Serves me right for calling, really,’ I muttered, tucking the phone in the back pocket of my jeans.