As soon as it feels like a sociable hour, I pick up my phone and ring her. No answer. I suddenly feel sick and don’t know if it’s just worry, or hunger. I root around to prep something for breakfast and realize I have no food in the house. I need bagels and milk and some fresh air in the form of a walk to my local corner shop down the road. I think about pulling on my new navy onesie out of habit, but actually, I’m feeling different. Brighter. I can see a speck of a silver lining. I decide to get properly dressed and pull on a pair of jeans that are frayed along the bottom and an old black-and-white-striped woollen jumper. I put my Bluetooth headphones in my ears and Emma Thompson’s Desert Island Discs episode blares out into my ears as I cross the road by the pub and pass the train station. I go into Tesco and pick up a copy of The Times and walk to the bread section at the back of the store. Bagels pre-sliced, only one bag left. I then go to the wine section and pick up a cheap but OK-ish one for later – a claret. Then I put it back. I don’t need to get drunk on my own tonight. I start wandering towards the till and spot a woman who has the same hat as Isla looking at the biscuits. It’s a red cashmere beret I bought her from Reiss for her birthday years ago. I realize quickly that it is Isla. She is walking quickly away towards the exit.

‘Isla!’ I shout.

She carries on walking away.

I stride after her, and my walk turns into a bit of a gallop.

‘Isla …!’ I grab her arm. She turns around, reluctantly.

‘Oh … hi,’ she says. Clearly she’d seen me. She looks at the floor. I notice how tired she looks.

‘Are you OK? I was getting worried I hadn’t heard from you. I’m so sorry things have been so awkward between us. I really hated leaving things like that.’ We step to the side, by the magazines, so as not to block the entrance to the store. I set the alarm off. It goes off loudly and the security guy gives me side-eye.

‘I’m OK. Can’t stay and chat though,’ she says.

‘Of course. Sorry it’s just … I don’t know what to say.’ This feels so alien to me. Not knowing what to say to one of my best friends. I feel nervous, like I’m going to put my foot in it.

‘Yes, I’m sorry if I have been a bit distant lately. Not feeling myself, I guess.’

‘Can we talk? Sort things out?’

‘I can’t stay and talk about this here,’ she whispers.

‘OK. I don’t want to be paranoid but I’d really like to know what’s up.’

She pauses and rolls her tongue around the corner of her cheek. ‘Honestly? Having a child is all I can think about at the moment. And I feel like not having a child is all you are thinking about. It’s OK. It really is. But I personally can’t hack it right now.’