‘Most actresses are failed ones.’

‘Well, I go further,’ and I attempt to count out on my fingers, hindered by the giant gloves. ‘I’ve failed in relationships, failed at moving away, failed at everything I’ve ever tried to do since I left school. I’ve totally failed at being an adult.’ I manage to get onto my feet without Beth’s help this time, which is marginally easier without skis attached to my feet.

‘Come on, babes. You can’t just stand in the middle of a slope without skis. It’s a hazard.’

‘Oh, and with skis it isn’t?’

‘Your attitude stinks. I wouldn’t mind, but I’m doing you a favour, remember?’

‘It was supposed to be fun!’

‘Chlo. We need to move. You’re gonna have to bum shuffle down.’

‘You’re fucking kidding, right?’

‘No. It’s the only way down, for you.’

So I go. Like a baby who’s not worked out how to crawl, I shuffle. On my arse.

‘Wanna try again?’ Beth has the nerve to ask once I reach the bottom. My face says it all. ‘Okay, that was me trying to make you laugh, babes.’

‘You don’t understand, pal,’ I say, as Beth guides me away from a line of kids queuing for the chairlift. ‘I mean, look at you. You’re a success story. You move in elite circles, feel at home as a VIP.’

‘You’ve got no clue.’

‘No, I think I’ve got the right clue, actually.’

‘That stuff means nothing and you know it. Give yourself more credit.’

‘Nothing? Beth, you’ve got a husband and a home.’

‘Look. You’re not the only thirty-six-year-old who’s single and childless, you know.’

I wish she’d stop shouting at me. We’re sat right beside the speakers, taking off those God-awful boots.

‘What do you want me to do, Beth? Get on Tinder? Swipe for love? To use one of your clichés, get back on the saddle?’

She scoops up her boots and wriggles her toes to let them breathe.

‘I want you to listen,’ she says.

‘All I do is listen!’

She shakes her head slowly. ‘No you don’t, babes,’ and looping her boots and poles onto her skis, she walks away from me. I know, from her tone of voice, that we won’t be having dinner together this evening. I want to stop her, beg her to stay. We haven’t had a fight since we were really young and somehow it matters more now that we’re old. I feel like running to the loo, locking the door and crying, but I also want her to leave so I can try to make sense of why I’m here. Immersing myself in Jack’s plans makes me feel closer to him, like we’re still together. And I wish Beth could understand.

Except I don’t feel closer to Jack today.