‘No,’ April agreed. ‘No. Not for a long time. I had a dream about her the other day, about going on a road trip with her, and when I woke up, I felt … bereft, I guess.’ She gave a frustrated sigh. ‘I’ll get over it. I’m good at picking myself up.’

‘You don’t have to get over it, you know,’ Louise said gently. ‘You can talk about it properly, if you want.’

April rolled her eyes, but said, ‘Thanks, honey.’ She put her arm round Louise and pulled her into a hug. Then she reached for her phone. ‘I want a photograph. To commemorate this fine occasion.’

She held the camera out at arm’s length, studying them both on the screen for a few seconds before she smiled and took the shot.

‘You know,’ Louise said, ‘Tipsy Louise loves you just as much as all the other Louises. And she’ll still be here for you.’

‘I know she will.’ It looked like April might say something else, but she looked at her phone instead. ‘OK, the cab’s here in five. We’d better drink up.’

Louise felt a twist in her stomach. She wasn’t sure she was ready to do this. However much she wanted to tell the horrors of the last week to go screw themselves, the idea of going to another club on another Friday, of seeing men there who might want to flirt with her … it was horrifying. It had been hard enough going on her own last Sunday, before she knew for certain that an apparently kind man had pinned her down and raped her.

But April was a firm believer in getting back in the saddle. She’d rebooked the hotel they’d never made it to on Monday, and had insisted on paying for Louise to spend two full hours on a massage table. She’d also booked them a VIP area at a club that was run by a friend of hers.

‘We won’t be standing at the bar with everyone else,’ April told her. ‘You’ll have a safe space at the table to retreat to if you feel bad, and if it’s awful, we’ll just go.’ She’d raised an eyebrow. ‘But this is going to be a night we’ll remember for years. I can feel it.’

‘Oh, will it?’ Louise had said, and then found herself capitulating. April was essentially right. She shouldn’t be hiding away because some psycho had attacked her. She was stronger than that.

But she could still feel the pounding of her heart as she put her coat on and looped her large handbag round her, holding it close in front of her like a shield. And she wondered, a little wistfully, whether Drunk Louise would have been a little tougher.