“Suze, d’you remember when we were single, in our flat?” I say abruptly. “D’you remember when I tried to cook you curry? And neither of us was anywhere near getting married. Let alone having children.”

“Let alone committing adultery,” Suze puts in heavily.

“Don’t think about that! I was just wondering…is this what you thought married life would be like?”

“Dunno,” she says, after mulling it over for a while. “No, not really. What about you?”

“I thought it would be simpler,” I admit. “My mum and dad always made it seem so easy. You know, Sunday lunch, rounds of golf, glasses of sherry—everything was so calm and ordered and sensible. But now look at them. Look at us. It’s all so stressy.”

“You’re OK,” says Suze at once. “You and Luke are fine.”

“Well, you and Tarkie will be fine too,” I reply as robustly as I can. “I’m sure of it.”

“And what about us?” Suze’s face is uneasy. “Bex, I’ve been so mean to you.”

“No, you haven’t!” I say at once. “I mean…we’re…it’s—”

I break off, my face hot. I don’t know what to say. I know Suze is being all warm and lovely now—but what about when Alicia comes back? Will I be left out again?

“Friendships move on.” I try to sound bright. “Whatever.”

“Move on?” Suze sounds shocked.

“Well, you know,” I say awkwardly. “You’re better friends with Alicia now….”

“I’m not! Oh God…” Suze shuts her eyes, looking agonized. “I’ve been obnoxious. I just felt so guilty…but it came out wrong. It came out as being horrible.” Her blue eyes pop open. “Bex, Alicia’s not my best friend. She could never be my best friend. You are. At least…I hope you still are.” She comes to face me, head on, her eyes all anxious. “Aren’t you?”

My throat is tight as I stare back at her familiar face. I feel like a cord is being untied from my chest. Something that had been hurting for so long that I’d kind of got used to it is being released.

“Bex?” Suze tries again.

“If I phoned you up at three A.M….” My voice is suddenly small. “Would you answer?”

“I’d come straight round,” Suze replies forthrightly. “I’d be there. Whatever you needed, I’d do it.” Tears are glistening in her eyes. “And I don’t have to ask you the same, because when I was in trouble you came. You’re here.”

“It wasn’t three A.M., though,” I say, to be fair. “More like eight P.M.”

“Same thing.” Suze gives me a push, and I laugh, although I almost feel like crying. I’d felt unmoored, losing Suze. And now I have her back. I think I have her back.

I take a step away, trying to gather myself. Then, on impulse, I pick up an ugly leather bracelet decorated with beer-bottle tops—it’s even worse than the wine-cork necklace—and hold it out to Suze, deadpan. “You know what? You’d really suit this.”

“Is that right?” counters Suze, her eyes sparkling. “Well, you’d look divine in this.” She picks up a hairband covered in lurid fake grapes, and we both snuffle with laughter. I’m just searching for the worst possible thing I can find on the table, when my eye is distracted by a familiar figure coming through the tent.