‘I’m all ears.’ Magda folds the last of the sweaters and, to Evie’s perplexity, moves on to shoes and underwear simultaneously. ‘Trust me,’ Magda tells her, as Evie issues a concerned look. Magda waves away her interference with one hand, stuffing Evie’s sneakers with lace thongs with the other. ‘And fill me in on the plan. Let me live vicariously through you. I mean, God, if school was already out, I’d be coming with you. Because I’m one of the naïve civilians who thinks it’s all going to be so terribly glamorous.’

‘Huh,’ snorts Evie. ‘And anyway,’ she adds, not wanting to linger on what’s in store. ‘Not long to go now. And I’ll be back in time for Christmas, just you and me. We can totally ignore that it’s even happening, if you want, or make a big thing of it like kids, or be drunk throughout, or whatever. We’ll play it absolutely by your ear.’

Magda pauses her methodical shoe wadding – a packing method Evie can already see is just as efficient as Magda had suggested, proving that it was totally right to ask for her assistance – and looks up.

‘Just don’t get divorced, that’s my advice.’ Magda sighs sadly. ‘It’s crappy. Crappy, crappy, crappy.’

She pulls a face, sticking out her bottom lip in a dramatic but, to Evie, totally justified fashion, and Evie pads across to the other side of the bed to hook an arm around her best friend tightly. It was ever thus. There was an Evie and Magda before there was a Magda and Jamie, and there’ll be an Evie and Magda long after the divorce papers are finally signed.

‘You know,’ Evie says, softly, ‘six months ago, and you’d have said that through guttural sobs and scoops of Ben and Jerry’s from the carton. You’ve come a long way, baby. I know it hurts, but remember that much. Time, she’s a healer. You’re doing so well.’

Magda looks at her side-on. ‘A divorcée,’ she says. ‘And for what? I feel like Miranda in the Sex and the City reboot.’ She blows a raspberry. ‘And Just Like That, Magda blew up her life because it wasn’t exciting enough, and found herself single in her thirties again.’

‘Hey,’ says Evie, pretending to be hurt. ‘It ain’t so bad.’

‘You have Carl.’

‘Hmm. Do I though?’ Evie pulls a face. ‘That isn’t … that. If you know what I mean.’

‘You mean it’s temporary on purpose,’ says Magda.

‘Everything in this life is temporary,’ replies Evie, and the comment hits harder than she meant it to. She thinks of her mom.