And who else had known, she wondered – what friends had found out before her and had looked at her pityingly and talked about her to their partners. Karen? After all, Karen was Frankie’s sister. Had she known all along? That time they’d gone out for a meal together and Irene had talked – her cheeks burned with wretchedness when she remembered it – about now how she and Adrian had been through a difficult patch over the past several months, but how basically committed they remained to each other. ‘We’ll grow old together,’ she’d said with a slightly drunk solemnity, and ‘Don’t you think, once you have children, you’re linked in a biological way, as if you’re each other’s family?’ She remembered saying that, partly saying it to make it true – but had Karen known then, while she sat there nodding her sleek head, fiddling with her expensive jewellery, and smiling? Had she gone from Irene to Frankie, to hold her hand and comfort her and give her advice, encouragement, hope, help? Told Mac, in a hushed, important voice one evening, while they were undressing for bed perhaps – poor Irene, isn’t it terrible, and oh God, so complicated for us, Irene’s almost like my sister as well, what on earth should we do …? And maybe Karen told Sarah later, while Sarah held Connor to her breast and felt so grateful for her own life. Smug with the sense of her own blessedness. And Sarah told Gary … But that’s the way paranoia creeps in – for a moment, she let herself imagine huddles in corners, a whisper like a dry rustle in the air, that dies as she approaches, eyes looking at her and then looking away. Poor Irene.

They had seen Frankie on New Year’s Eve, Irene did recall that. She had been at Megan and Larry’s house, where they’d gone after having dinner elsewhere. By the time they arrived, Aggie was asleep in the car and Irene scooped her up and staggered through the crowds and up the stairs, laying her on a bed and covering her with a coat. She looked in on the main bedroom where Sasha and Clem, along with ten or so other children, were eating popcorn and watching the tv. When she came downstairs she met Frankie, who kissed her on both cheeks and wished her a happy New Year. Irene had known Frankie since she and Karen were eleven and Frankie only six, a chubby little blonde girl with a fringe and grommets in her ears who cried easily, and who used to tag after them.

‘And to you too,’ said Irene.

Karen had told her that Frankie and her boyfriend had finally split up at Christmas, so she felt warmly sympathetic. ‘I know you’ve been having a hard time but I really hope next year’s better for you. You’re looking lovely, though.’