Karin straightened the cutlery on the table, adjusted the place mats. ‘Just give her another ten minutes.’

‘Nice spread as usual, Karin.’ Paul was the only person who ever made a point of thanking her. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

She tossed him a box of matches. ‘Do you mind lighting the candles?’

All Karin had to do was get through tonight, they’d have their usual reunion dinner, and then she’d let them all drift from her life. There was no point in their meeting any more. None of them had anything in common except that one thing that happened to them. The evenings were usually tense, and no one even pretended to enjoy themselves, except for Paul, who spent the whole night vainly attempting to encourage some kind of ridiculous camaraderie.

It was crazy that they still even had these reunions. Psychologists had suggested it when they were all too young to know better. They shared a bond, the shrinks said, nobody outside of their group would ever understand the sickening ordeal they had suffered. Coming together regularly to remember their shared trauma, to remember her, would help them heal.

Heal, Karin thought. As if.

The four of them would never heal – they were losers, rejects, misfits. And Lydia, when she eventually arrived, was in a worse state than any of them. Well, Karin would feed them all one last time, and then they could all finally go their own way. There was no rule to say that just because one awful thing happened to them a long time ago, they had to keep returning to it again and again, like an animal licking a festering wound.

The evening would unfurl exactly like every other year. Michelle would look down her nose at everyone; Paul would bang on about his faith; Simon would hardly utter a word; and Lydia would take them all aside, one by one, and ask to borrow money.

‘It’s really not on, Lydia should be here by now.’ Michelle poured herself another glass of wine. ‘Some of us have responsibilities. I’ve a multi-million-pound business to run and can’t stay out all night. I imagine she’s probably off her face on smack or whatever and has completely forgotten.’

‘She doesn’t do that any more, she’s clean.’

Michelle snorted. ‘If you believe that, you’ll believe anything. What does our chatterbox friend think, is she going to turn up?’ She waited for Simon to answer, but he just shrugged. ‘Don’t you worry about replying, darling, we don’t want your powers of conversation to peak too early.’

‘I’m uncomfortable being judgemental about Lydia,’ said Paul primly. ‘She needs our love, not our criticism.’

‘So sorry, Paul.’ Michelle smirked. ‘I must have missed that lesson in Bible class.’

Paul ignored the jibe. ‘She won’t let us down, but maybe we should do the toast now, just in case.’