‘It’s hard though, isn’t it?’ said Amber. ‘When alcohol’s been keeping you feeling safe. Taking away your nerves, bonding you with your friends.’

Rachel’s look to her was uncertain at first, but then it became determined.

‘I won’t go near it.’ She screwed up her face and as I watched it contort, I thought about how incapable she’d always been of perceiving how pretty it was. How lovable she was when she wasn’t being deliberately unbearable. ‘To be honest, the thought of it makes me feel ill right now.’

‘Great! And are there any trigger points you can think of now that we should talk about? More parties? Social events you might need to think about skipping?’

‘Well there’s the christening,’ I said. ‘Josh’s new baby. Rachel’s a godmother. But we’ll all be there to keep an eye.’ Rachel looked blank suddenly, that vacancy returning. ‘Sorry, darling – I mean, we’ll look after you.’

Amber’s eyes flicked quickly between us, reading our silent exchange. I tried and failed not to mind. ‘Do whatever you need to do to be prepared for it – that’s inevitably going to be a big deal. And let’s not leave too long a gap between appointments. Next week would be perfect timing.’

‘Thank you,’ said Rachel, her voice small. She didn’t stand, just gave a half-smile from the safety of the chair.

‘It’s time to take yourself seriously,’ said Amber, eyes lingering on her. ‘You deserve your own compassion, Rachel.’

I stood myself, breaking the moment. My legs were shaking as I walked her to the door.

‘We really appreciate you coming,’ I said, aware I sounded a little like she’d cleaned the windows, not somehow exorcised my child.

‘You’re welcome,’ she said, her eyes lingering on me now. ‘You take care of yourself too, Lily. I’ll be holding you both in my thoughts. Sending compassion to you.’

She sailed off down the path, without a backward glance. I know that for sure, because I left the door wide open, watching her progress until she disappeared from my eyeline.

RACHEL

I started with the best intentions. I knew a week out of the office would be pushing it, what with the months of imaginary tube delays and doctors’ appointments that I subtly implied were too personal for my boss, Duncan, to question. As managers went, he was ridiculously tolerant, but exasperation had recently started to morph into anger, maybe even hurt. He was a civil servant to his bones, and I could tell that he took my lack of respect as a moral failing. The truth was that I felt that same disappointment in me that he did, but I was too distracted polishing my excuses until they gleamed to let myself own it.