That’s generally how it goes when you’re married, I think, but decide that it’s best not to remind Lauren of that either in her current state of mind. Instead, I say, ‘I’m sorry, Lauren. So sorry.’

‘He has his children here too.’ She looks at me, pained. ‘Oh, God. Why would he bring his children?’

‘There are a few kids here.’ Not that many of them, admittedly. Most adults, I’m sure, would rather have the opportunity to get blotto on free booze without the kids in tow. ‘I don’t think it’s restricted to adults.’ Perhaps the kids were actually invited too. Or perhaps their babysitter let them down at the last minute. Perhaps they just wanted to be here as a family. Plus there’s more than enough to keep children entertained. There are jugglers and fire-eaters and dancers. And where else can you go to see life-size fruit these days?

‘They do a non-alcoholic version of this stuff too,’ I tell Lauren as we down another pair of shots. ‘The kids can drink that. Perhaps we should move on to it too?’

‘What is the purpose of drink without alcohol?’ my sister snaps, and polishes off another glass as she eyeballs me. ‘Tell me that.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say again, because I don’t know what else I have to offer. Maybe Lauren is better off drunk. Maybe I am too.

‘He’ll have come here under protest,’ she says. ‘Because she made him.’

At which point Jude, smiling broadly – as far away from the picture of a man who’s miserable in his marriage could be – pulls his wife to him and kisses her warmly. If he has been dragged here, it seems that he’s putting a brave face on it. Very brave.

‘That’s it,’ Lauren announces as she downs two more shots. Clearly, my sister has no intention of considering the no-alcohol idea. ‘I can’t stay here.’

And with that, my big, orange, distraught twin sister waddles away as fast as she can.

Chapter 71

Chapter 71

I catch up with Lauren in the ladies’ loo. I can’t actually see her, but I can hear her sobbing.

‘Lauren.’ I knock gently on the cubicle door. Renewed sobbing. ‘Lauren, open the door. Please.’

A moment later the door opens. Lauren, with some difficulty, is sitting on the toilet seat.

‘Oh, love,’ I say and, also with some difficulty, wrap my arms round her. Sort of.

The heartfelt crying is wracking her body, making her pineapple shake up and down. ‘Don’t. Don’t.’ I stroke her plastic leaves tenderly. ‘He’s not worth it.’

‘I have a pain in my heart.’

‘It could be the pineapple suit,’ I venture.

‘Annie!’ my sister snaps.

‘I’m trying to make you laugh.’