‘I just don’t want one,’ she said, shutting the menu firmly and handing it back to the waiter. ‘Thank you,’ she said to him, raising her first smile of the evening.

‘Sophie,’ I said, once he’d retreated. I grabbed for her hand across the table. ‘Can’t we just have a nice time together? Sister Act?’ It was a silly way we sometimes used the phrase, a little nod to our special bond within our family. We were the sister act. Or at least we always had been.

She stared at me searchingly.

‘I wish,’ she said softly. ‘I wish that more than anything.’

‘So… I’m still me, Sophie! I’m me, without you having to worry that I’m going to sink two bottles of wine and do something totally inappropriate and possibly naked.’

She refused to laugh – instead she somehow managed to look even more pained.

‘Why aren’t you happy for me?’ I said, anger building now. ‘Everyone wanted me to stop being so self-destructive. To get a life. And now you’re all still judging me. I can’t win, can I?’

Sophie snatched her hand away.

‘I’m happy you’re not drinking, I really am. I’m proud of you for that. But I don’t know why you have to be so horrible to Mum. To both of them. She’s in bits, Rachel. I’ve never seen her like this. Why didn’t you just tell her where you were? I know you’re angry I told her, but you put me in an impossible position. And then last night all she was trying to do was make peace, and you were awful to her again.’

My rage was like a tidal wave. I forced myself to stay silent until I could trust myself to speak. This wasn’t Sophie’s fault: she’d been indoctrinated too. But before I’d formulated a reply, she changed tack.

‘How was it, anyway?’ she said, lighter suddenly. The waiter delivered our bottle of water, and she busily rearranged our glasses to make it easier for him to pour. ‘Mum said you met someone?’

‘Yeah, I did,’ I said.

‘So – gory details?’ she asked, perky.

Something jarred. Something didn’t sound like Sophie. But the chance to pretend that we were back to normal was too alluring, and soon I was blabbing away about Arthur like he was my one true love rather than a grown man who thought ‘Ha!’ was a coherent sentence. My sister’s smile felt too persistent, too glazed, and I checked myself.

‘God, listen to me wanging on.’ I laughed. ‘What about you? I can’t believe it’s only two months until the wedding. How is Toby?’

‘Yeah, no, he’s fine,’ she said. ‘Busy at work.’