‘I know that V stands for Verity,’ I say, calmly.

‘Who are you?’ she asks nervously, like I have been watching her through a secret hole in her shower wall for the past five years. She stands up cautiously, some pills still in her hand.

‘I’m Ruby. I’m the person who retouches your pictures.’

She looks a little relieved.

‘And I know your dad. I’ve chatted with him. We met in the park. He’s helped me realise a lot about myself. He told me all about Verity. It must be so painful, especially on a day like today. Is that what this is all about?’

‘It’s painful every day. But no, this is about me and my mother. You wouldn’t understand. Please, just go, OK?’

‘Have you and your mother had a falling-out?’

‘You could say that.’

‘Your dad told me she has struggled too since Verity died. Trying to present herself as happy when really her happiness is impossible. That must be hard. My mother and I don’t get along either. I’ve barely spoken to her in twenty years.’

She sits back down, rolling the pills back onto the table. She puts her head into her hands and starts to cry.

‘What happened today, Lauren?’ I ask gently.

‘She slept with Gavin.’

‘She?’ I ask, as if I must have missed something.

‘Yes, she, my mother. The wedding planner and her assistant just walked in on her and Gavin. Downstairs, just now. On my wedding day. Did your mother do that to you?’

‘Oh my goodness. No, my mother didn’t do that. I see why you are so upset.’ For a moment I wonder if maybe my mother isn’t so bad after all. I quickly get that thought out of my head. She is as awful, just in different ways.

My words remind Lauren how upset she is and shift her focus back to the pills.

‘I hate myself,’ she says, picking a few up again. ‘Today was the day I was supposed to gain something, not lose everything. Please, just go. I’m doing this whether you’re here or not.’ She puts more water into the glass.

‘Lauren listen, you’ve got a whole life ahead of you. You’ve got your looks, you’re so beautiful …’ I am annoying myself with all the clichés, and it gets on her nerves too.

‘Oh, what would you know? All tall and skinny. Not in the public eye. You don’t know what it’s like to be defined by the way you look. I’m a body, a face. Feeling like a heap of shit every day because I know I’ve done it to myself. I’m in a cage. I have no one. No one who really cares.’ She looks at the open bathroom door.