I sit on my bed, take a sip of tea and open WhatsApp, trying to block out the possibility of a tumbleweed-shaped rejection.

Me: Hi guys

Me: Can we go to Jono’s next week? Would love to see you all

A few hours later, some replies trickle in.

Cec: Course! Great idea. Chris can babysit x

Bea: Would love to Ol – long overdue

Isla: Sure

Cec: It’s been too long

Bea: I miss you all x

There is something about returning to Jono’s – our old haunt, full of so many memories – that highlights how much we’ve each changed and how far we have drifted. When I arrive the next week, I try to hide my surprise that everyone has actually made it. We each drag our chairs out from under the table and they squeak awkwardly along the floor. Then, the silence feels quite deafening. This feels very awkward suddenly. There is so much unsaid, so much hanging in the air.

‘Girls!’ Jono says enthusiastically, placing down menus in front of us. ‘Been so long!’

‘I know, but we’re back – so good to see you,’ I say.

‘Work good?’ Cec asks Bea. Clearly skirting around the elephant in the room.

‘All good. Lovely review in The Times for the recent exhibition, which is great. You been going back to work a bit now? How’s Oscar?’ Bea asks Cec.

‘Yeah, been checking in. He’s fine, and I’m doing OK,’ Cec replies, twirling her ring around her finger.

‘And … everything OK … at home?’ Isla asks Bea. We’re all relieved she’s asked.

‘Well, it’s still over. He’s renting a flat in London.’ Tears prickle in Bea’s eyes.

‘We’re so sorry, Bea,’ Cec says.

‘You’ve dealt with it all so well. Must be so hard, but sounds like it’s for the best,’ Isla adds.

‘You’ll be OK, Bea,’ I say, gently.

‘Yeah … I will. It’s just hard on the kids,’ Bea says, quietly.

‘Is there anything we can do?’ Cec says.

‘Honestly, no.’ Bea wipes away some tears, and looks away, a cue she wants us to change the subject.

‘Everything OK with you Isla?’ Cec asks.

‘Yeah, still working from home a lot. Officially on my next round of IVF – our third time now, so we are just hoping for the best! I’m not telling anyone apart from you guys,’ she replies.

‘That’s amazing!’ I say.

‘Oh Isla,’ Bea says, squeezing her hand.

‘Got everything crossed for you, darling,’ Cec says.

‘And you, Olive?’ Bea asks.

‘Oh, I got a promotion. Editor-in-Chief. Gill’s gone!’

‘Oh wow, Olive! You’ve always wanted that,’ Cec says.

‘That’s incredible – but what happened to Gill?’ Bea asks.

‘She’s booked a trip around the world. Eat Pray Love vibes. Off to find herself and do some Ayahuasca,’ I say, laughing.

‘Good for Gill. She was always a bit of an odd nut,’ Bea says. ‘And amazing for you, Ol. You deserve it.’

Luckily now that Gill’s gone, I don’t actually have to publish that ‘Millennials vs kids’ article, and I don’t have to include anything about the CFBC either. Thank god. I realized I didn’t want to write about those women and expose them for the sake of a headline. I want their stories to be kept private. I want them to be respected and understood beyond a few hundred words. I know better now, though, than to raise this subject again in front of Isla. There’ll be a time and a place for us to talk about this kind of thing. Right now, it’s too sensitive.