Back at my apartment, we get comfy on my enormous sofa, which (like most of my furniture) I was fortunate enough to hold onto following my split from Dom.

‘That food was amazing.’ Sasha rubs her stomach contentedly at the memory. ‘How is it though that I’m really full, but I still have a hankering for something sweet? Got any dessert in that fridge?’

I screw up my face as I try to visualise whether there’s anything in my kitchen that might semi-resemble dessert. ‘I’m afraid the best I can do is dried fruit and mixed unsalted nuts.’

‘Yeah, that’s not going to cut it. Ooh, I know… I have some chocolate in my bag.’

She pads through to my bedroom, then reappears in the doorway waving a bag of mini Toblerones in front of her.

‘They’re basically just chocolate-coated nuts.’ She gives me a devilish look.

‘Chuck it across.’

Sasha launches the bag in my direction and I brace myself to catch it. But I misjudge the trajectory, and my clumsy attempt to save the situation results in an empty mug being knocked off the coffee table and breaking into pieces.

‘Shit.’ I tentatively pick up the bits. ‘Forgot I can’t catch any more.’

Sasha starts to laugh, then, realising I’m referring to my lack of coordination caused by my MS, she bites her lip guiltily to cover it up.

I glance up at her and smile. ‘It’s OK to laugh. It was funny. We need to find some humour in this nonsense.’

Expecting this to relax Sasha, I’m shocked when she suddenly bursts into tears.

‘Hey…’ I cross the room and put my arms round her. ‘What’s going on? Please don’t get upset. I told you, we need to laugh – otherwise this happens.’

‘Ama-no-crian-coz-a-tha,’ Sasha mumbles miserably into my shoulder.

‘Sorry, what? I can’t make out a word you’re saying.’

‘It’s… not… that.’ She lets out a half-shudder-half-hiccup as I release her and hold her at arm’s length. ‘I’m just… It upsets me so much that you’re getting on with things, when my mum… she’s selfishly taking the kind of support people who are genuinely ill need and deserve, and there’s not a damn thing wrong with her.’

I take in my best friend’s face, reading the hurt she’s feeling.

‘Aww, Sash.’ I pull her back in for another hug as she dissolves into tears once more. ‘I totally get why you feel that way. You know I feel the same. I don’t currently need the kind of help your mum’s taking, but that could change for me in years to come. For the sake of getting through this in one piece, try to put your energy into looking after you, not how big an injustice your mum has committed – because it’s happened and there’s nothing you can do to change that fact. She’s responsible for this, not you. Yeah?’

‘Ah-sapo-sat-mahks-shens.’

‘I’m going to take that as you accept and agree with what I say.’ I chuckle, patting her on the back affectionately.