‘Oh dear. Not good then?’ I wish my face was less readable.

I’m not OK with admitting that we had a fight, especially as I know Anna will keep prying and will eventually lead the conversation towards a deep dive into my life. I decide to deflect.

‘Oh no, but I haven’t seen her that much since she got married. She’s very focused on her career, which gives her only a small amount of time for anything else. But I think she’s good. The last time I saw her it was her birthday. We went to a really trendy bar for a couple of drinks. You would have loved it. Lots of cocktails.’

‘Gosh, the days of going to bars seem so long ago.’

It wasn’t that long ago. Anna invited me to a work do a couple of years back. I was trying to save money so I wasn’t drinking, but Anna was totally – and I use this term affectionately – off her tits.

By the time 10 p.m. rolled around, nobody was left standing.

I remember turning around from my conversation with a couple of Anna’s co-workers to see one of her non-work friends making out with the barman, another eating nachos directly off the floor, and Anna stroking the walls.

‘Hey, Anna. Whatcha doing there?’

‘I’m testing for the filth.’

All I could do was raise my eyebrows and nod.

Anna went on, slurring slightly, swaying. ‘Yes. I am a good friend, and my good friend –’ she pauses and looks down at me through her eyelashes like she can’t remember her good friend’s name – ‘her, over there! –’ she points to the person eating the nachos – ‘I want to make sure that it’s safe for her to eat her nachos from wherever she chooses to eat them.’

‘You are a very good friend, but I don’t think she’s going to need to eat any more after she’s done with those.’ Anna keeps testing the wall. Her face is getting increasingly close, and I worry that she might lick it. ‘Can I get you a drink? Maybe some water?’

That made her stop.

‘Water?! Water is for the weak! I want another cocktail.’

I looked over at the bar. The barman was still, ahem, occupied with the other friend. But it didn’t matter. By the time I looked back at Anna she was merrily sing-shouting a montage of Disney songs to an unfortunate table of people nearby.

I snap back to the present when a rainbow of children run directly across my eyeline.

‘Hello, sweetie! Have you said hello to Aunty Bea?’ Why does Anna have to use that high-pitched voice when she talks to Olivia?

I realize that as her aunt I shouldn’t say this, but Olivia is a highly intelligent yet weirdly morbid child with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Ask her a simple question and she’ll answer it with a shocking amount of thought, always tinged with a depressing edge. Looking at her parents, who are now both singing Disney songs (thank goodness they found each other), I have no idea where she gets it from.