I take out my winnings and carefully count out the cash, as an assistant packages up the jacket in a lovely square box.

“And now,” says Luke, as we head out of the shop, “let me reciprocate, in the tiniest way. I meant to give you this earlier.” He hands me a printed-out email. “One of the teams in the London office is advising Mac, so they’ve offered all the staff a ninety percent discount voucher. For one glorious moment I thought she meant Apple Mac….” He gives a comical sigh. “But of course it’s makeup. So you can have mine.”

“Right. Thanks.” I skim the offer. “Wow. Ninety percent!”

“Where would they stock it?” He looks around. “Barneys? Shall we head there?”

“Actually…don’t worry,” I say after a pause. “Let’s not bother. It’ll be really boring for you.”

“You don’t want to go?” Luke seems surprised.

I’m studying the document, trying to work out my own reaction. The thought of choosing makeup for myself—even if it’s reduced—is giving me this weird, twisting feeling in my stomach.

Oh God, I don’t know what’s going on with me right now. I loved buying that jacket for Luke. And I loved buying the little jigsaw for Minnie. But somehow I can’t go and buy makeup for myself. It’s not…I feel so strange…I don’t…

I don’t deserve it. The miserable thought flashes through my head, making me wince.

“No, thanks.” I force a cheery smile. “Let’s go up and relieve Mum and Janice from babysitting duty.”

“You don’t want to walk around anymore? Look at the lights?”

“No, thanks.”

All my elation from earlier has melted away. The moment that Luke suggested treating me, it’s as though a voice popped up inside my head to berate me. But it’s not the nice, even-tempered, Golden Peace voice telling me to “buy with meaning” and “do everything in moderation.” It’s a harsher voice, telling me I don’t deserve anything at all.

We walk together away from the Shoppes, toward the elevators, letting the clamor of people and music wash over us. Luke keeps darting me thoughtful little glances, and at last he says, “Becky, sweetheart, I think you need your mojo back.”

“What mojo?” I say defensively. “I haven’t lost any mojo.”

“I think you have. What’s up, darling?” He swivels me round and puts his hands on my shoulders.

“Well…you know.” There’s a lump in my throat. “Everything. It’s all my fault, this trip. I should have gone to see Brent sooner. I should have listened to Dad more. No wonder Suze—”

I break off, my eyes hot, and Luke sighs.

“Suze will come round.”

“But I was talking to Danny about it, and he said friendships end, and I should let Suze go.”

“No.” Luke shakes his head firmly. “No, no. He’s wrong. Some friendships end. You and Suze are not going to end.”

“I think we already have ended,” I say miserably.

“Don’t give up! Becky, you’ve never been one to give up! OK, you’ve been in a bad place and Suze has been in a bad place…but I know the pair of you and I know you’re in it for the long haul. You’ll be grandmothers together, exchanging tips on knitting baby booties. I can see you now.”