She ran to the door and slammed it shut, almost trapping my fingers. I hammered for her to let me in, but she wouldn’t. So I sat on the floor in the hallway and talked to her until she calmed down. I told her I could hear everything she was doing, and that if she was sick I would know. Her problem was a secret and she couldn’t bear for me to hear her do it, so she slumped on one side of the door, and I sat on the other. We stayed like this for hours not saying anything, while she cried and cried. I never left, not even once. Eventually I coaxed her out. She held me and cried some more, admitting to having done this for years with no one knowing, that she hated herself for it, that she wanted to stop. I sat with her and held her hand while she called her mum and told her. Something that very much came from her. I can’t imagine calling my mum when upset, it would be like burning my toe and then jumping into a fire. I forget other people receive comfort and support from their mothers in times of need. I then drove Yvonne to Bristol to her family home, where she stayed for six weeks until she felt like she could return. To my knowledge, vomit-free.

Essentially, she hated her body. Which is why I think I connect with her the most.

‘He said something about me never spending any time with Bonnie, and it’s really struck a nerve,’ I continue.

‘Oh,’ Sarah says, in an indecipherable way.

‘Oh?’ I push, noticing Jess throw her a look. Sarah feels confident to carry on.

‘I mean, the weekend thing is odd.’

‘Odd?’ I ask, trying not to snap. I invited this judgement, I know that.

‘Yes, Liam has her every weekend. We invite you to things with the kids but you never come because you don’t have Bonnie, ever. It’s just odd, that’s all. For Liam to have her every weekend.’

‘But he wants her at the weekends. I have her all week.’

‘You don’t though, do you? She’s at nursery,’ Sarah continues, like she’s been wanting to say this for ages.

‘I’m working.’

‘I know, we all work. But we see our kids at the weekends, that’s the whole point.’

‘I work too much, and I’m feeling like shit about it,’ Yvonne says. I am grateful for the attention to be on someone else. She is a lawyer. She quickly realised having an art degree was utterly pointless and retrained after Falmouth. I’ve always been quite impressed by that. It sounds boring as hell but the level of study is extraordinary, and I think it’s brilliant that anyone should achieve such a qualification without giving up. She’s a clever woman, and maybe my favourite out of the three. Jess works for a women’s health charity, while Sarah does something in the arts that is never clear to me no matter how much she explains it. She doesn’t make art or sell it, but by the time she’s explained that far I’ve usually switched off.