‘Stop there, missy!’ said Marco, standing up and playfully slapping my hand away. ‘I’m gonna get you something delicious with no booze in sight.’

Hannah smiled goofily at his retreating back as he loped to the bar. He was wearing slim-fitting sand-coloured chinos, a thin cashmere V-neck slung over the top. They still looked completely incongruous together to me, but no one would appoint me a relationship expert.

‘He’s so amazing, Rachel,’ she said, voice low with awe. ‘I mean, I can’t believe how many gifts Amber’s given me. And it’s not just him – it’s you, too. You’re a precious gift in my life. And we’ve invited Tim as well.’

‘Great!’ I said, not quite selling the enthusiasm. It wasn’t that I disliked him, it was just that I couldn’t bear to think again about how out of control I’d been at the end of my turn. It had never felt quite right between us since then.

‘Shame he’s gay or else we could double date. Have a double wedding!’ said Hannah, flushed with giggly enthusiasm. With a few days grace, I’d forgotten how simultaneously lovely and exhausting her earnestness was. Was this my reality now? It was a million miles from the witty, cynical girls I was used to sharing a pub table with. Or – or my sister. The sadness was too acute. I needed to distract myself.

‘Can I tell you a secret?’ I said.

‘We have secrets?’ said Hannah, clutching her heart, mock offended. She was wearing a baggy grey sweatshirt with a picture of an elephant – trunk aloft – on the front.

‘I’ve been seeing a bit of Arthur.’

‘Arthur, Arthur?’ said Hannah, looking flummoxed. ‘Right.’

I felt a surge of irritation.

‘Yes. Arthur.’

‘Wow,’ added Hannah, her verbal diarrhoea all cleared up.

Now, I could see Marco extravagantly greeting Tim across the room, their faces lit up with pleasure at being reunited.

‘Don’t you like him?’ I said, wanting to finish the conversation before they came over.

‘You know I’ll always support you, Rachel. Whatever you choose to do.’ She spoke as if we’d shared a friendship that had lasted through the ages. It was sweet, I insisted to myself. ‘I suppose – I mean, he’s quite old.’

‘Age is just a number,’ I declared airily.

Hannah looked unconvinced. ‘What does Amber think?’

Before I could craft a reply, the boys were approaching the table, Marco holding a tall purple drink with a sprig of mint poking out. He placed it in front of me ceremonially.

‘For the lady – a cranberry royale. Very exclusive artisanal recipe.’

He was relentlessly fun – I felt like he’d make me laugh in a nuclear apocalypse. Which was lucky, as that was roughly what my life had become by that point.

‘Hey, Rachel,’ said Tim, awkwardly folding his bald head downwards to kiss my cheek.