It knocked me back, that suggestion. Even then, I didn’t really think of alcohol as a problem. If anything, it seemed like a solution I was no longer allowed to take.

I shuffled up in the bed until I was sitting, trying to turn this into a conversation between equals.

‘I hardly drink at all now,’ I told you. And it was true. Even when I was with you, I’d cut down. I wanted so badly to prove to you that I had everything under control. That I could be a fantastic mother. ‘I go days and days. I drink less than you most of the time, too. I’m really all right. I just didn’t eat enough last night, that’s all.’

I saw your reaction. Your expression changed, to something between exasperation and desolation. You nodded and gave a strange half-smile. Then you rubbed my shoulder and got up. It looked like I’d damaged you somehow, and thinking of the hurt I might be inflicting did more to wake me up than anything else.

I went out a few days later. It was the Sunday afternoon after the big concert, when the Pluckers had agreed to meet for lunch. I’d promised myself that I’d only have a couple of glasses. But somewhere along the line, beaten down by more snide remarks from Helen, I’d had a few more, and let Drunk Louise take the reins again. I have a hazy memory of being hilarious, and of the nicer Pluckers telling me how great I was.

But then I remember it being six p.m., and it being me, the other Louise, who was at the helm. I remember that my hand was firmly round a glass of Pinot Noir, and I had no idea how it had happened. It was like I’d been pinched awake again.

It was your heartbroken expression that I thought of just then, Niall. I suddenly saw the wine as the cause of it, and I put it down. I took a breath, and then I went to the bar for water and a few packets of crisps.

For three hours I drank nothing but water and juice. I ordered myself a plate of pasta, and I sat and waited for sobriety to return. I felt strangely proud of myself. And determined to turn this all round.

At nine I smiled at all of them and said I was going home for crap TV and cuddles with my husband. I left imagining you telling me how well I’d done. I ached to hear you say it.

I let myself in at nine fifteen, and felt an immediate dip as I realised that the house was empty. I was pretty sure you’d said you were at home, and it puzzled me. But then I doubted myself and sent you a message. I asked you what you were up to. That was all.