Hannah gave a desperate nod, her sobs getting even louder. Everyone stared at the tableau of the two of them, their faces earnest. I looked down into my water, willing it to honour Jesus and turn into wine. Why the hell was I here? My eyes grazed Hannah’s sobbing form, and suddenly she was my little sister, my Sophie. We’d never spent Christmas apart before. We’d met last week, but I almost wished we hadn’t, the air so thick with mutual resentment that our Christmas presents felt more like unexploded bombs. I’d still brought hers with me, carefully wrapped with silky ribbons the way she always did them. It was swaddled in my jeans at the bottom of my suitcase.

‘Thank you, Amber,’ managed Hannah eventually, unbinding her arms from around Amber’s torso.

Sophie had got it out of me eventually, her hurt at my secrecy like an open wound. I’d admitted to Amber’s retreat as we’d said our goodbyes, pretended it was no more than massages and Christmas carols, and made her swear not to tell Mum. It was feeling way more complicated than that right now.

Amber stalked back to her position at the top of the table.

‘The fact is, we’re all going to cry this weekend,’ she said, eyes resting benevolently on Hannah. ‘I’ve got many clients, many people I could have invited, but you lot – you’re my warriors.’ She grinned at us, almost triumphant. ‘You’re the ones who are ready to walk through the darkness, wade through the shit and honour your own precious hearts.’

Marco gave a spontaneous cheer.

‘We’re very lucky Arthur agreed to join us,’ she continued. ‘He’s a master practitioner in past life regression.’ A pulse of anxiety spread through my body. ‘He and I have worked together before, and…’ – her hand fluttered upwards – ‘well, it’s literally life-changing. That’s all I’m saying for now.’ Arthur gave a wide grin of appreciation. ‘When we find those lost fragments of our souls, it gives us permission to step fully into this incarnation.’

I glanced around the table, hoping some of the others were finding the prospect unnerving, but their faces were rapt moons. I can always go home, I told myself, but the thought of throwing myself onto the mercy of someone else’s family or spending it alone in my poky flat, only the 7/11 on the corner open for business, was too much to bear.

I was doing it again – removing myself, like I always did – feeling inadequate and superior all at once, loneliness the only constant. I forced myself to merge with Amber, to inhale her words. I was here for a reason. I was ready to be transformed.

Hannah’s enormous rucksack landed on the single bed with a heavy thud.

‘Do you mind if I go next to the window?’ she asked anxiously. ‘I get a bit claustrophobic.’