But the thoughts keep piling in. Is this it? Is our friendship over? After all these years, all our ups and downs…are we really at the end of the line? I just can’t work out what’s gone wrong. I know I didn’t behave brilliantly in L.A. But did I really wreck things this badly?

There’s a rack of jewelry made out of dice, and miserably I stuff a couple of necklaces into my basket. Maybe Mum and Janice will like them. In the old days, I would have bought matching ones for Suze and me and we would have thought it was hilarious, but I don’t have the confidence to do that now.

What am I going to do? What can I do?

My feet are taking me round and round the shop and I keep passing the same items, over and over. I have to stop. Come on, Becky, focus. I can’t just keep walking and brooding. I’ll get these things and then see if Mum has had any joy with the gondolas.

The shop is pretty busy and has three checkout lines. As I finally reach the front of the queue, a pretty cashier in a sparkly jacket dimples at me.

“Hi! I hope your shopping experience today was enjoyable!”

“Oh,” I say. “Well…yes. It was great, thank you.”

“If you could grade it for us, we’d really appreciate it,” she says, ringing up my items. She hands me a little card, which reads:

MY SHOPPING EXPERIENCE TODAY WAS:

⎕ Awesome. (We’re so pleased!)

⎕ Only OK. (Uh-oh—any reason why?)

⎕ Terrible. (So sorry to hear that! Please tell us the problem!)

I take the pen from her and stare at the card. I should tick Awesome. There was nothing wrong with the store, and I got what I wanted. I have no complaints. Come on. Awesome.

But somehow…my hand won’t do it. I don’t feel Awesome.

“That’ll be sixty-three ninety-two,” says the girl, and peers at me curiously as I give her the money. “Are you OK?”

“Um…I don’t know.” To my horror, tears are suddenly trembling on my lashes. “I don’t know what to tick. I know I should choose Awesome, but I can’t tick it, I just can’t. I’ve fallen out with my best friend, and that’s all I can think about, and so nothing’s Awesome right now. Not even shopping.” I stare at her miserably. “I’m sorry. I won’t waste your time anymore.”

I hold out my hand for my receipt. But the girl doesn’t give it to me. She’s gazing at me in concern. She’s called Simone, I notice from her name tag.

“Well, are you happy with your purchases?” She opens the carrier bag for me to see them, and I stare at all the stuff, feeling a bit dazed.

“I don’t know,” I say despairingly. “I don’t even know why I’ve bought all this stuff. It’s meant to be presents for people. You know. Souvenirs.”

“OK…”

“But I don’t know what I’ve bought for who, or anything, and I’m only supposed to buy meaningfully. I went on a whole program at Golden Peace.”