They all gathered behind the chair that would remain empty for the evening – because it always did.

Six places set – but only ever the five of them in attendance.

‘To our absent friend.’ Paul lifted his glass. ‘You’re in a better place, but you will always remain for ever in our hearts. God rest your soul.’

‘To Becky,’ they all said.

Karin dropped her gaze to the floor, unable to look anyone in the eye. After a moment’s tense silence, Michelle reached for the wine and Paul chatted to Simon, who stood – as always – near the door. It wasn’t unusual for him to slip away early without saying goodbye.

Pretending to arrange napkins, Karin watched these sad, broken people. They may all have survived that ordeal, but none of them had come out the other side of the experience intact. None of them, her included, had gone on to enjoy anything remotely like a normal life.

Simon was a solitary wanderer who disappeared off the grid for weeks, sometimes months, searching for solace in distant places. Paul was a charity worker who had battled desperately to find meaning in his life, finally announcing that he had become a born-again Christian. To look at her you’d think blunt, forceful Michelle, with her expensive clothes, thick mask of make-up and towering bouffant of hair, was every inch the successful businesswoman. She lived in a big house along the coast, had a flash car, enjoyed luxury holidays. But Michelle was a three-time divorcee with a drink problem, and behind her brittle exterior she was as emotionally insecure as the rest of them.

And Lydia was… it was difficult to know where to even begin with fragile, damaged Lydia.

As for Karin herself, well, things hadn’t worked out the way she expected. ‘I’ll heat up the food.’

In the kitchen, she pulled silver foil off the lasagne and placed the dish in the oven.

‘I don’t know how you do it.’

She turned to see Michelle in the doorway, a large glass of wine pressed to her chest.

‘Do what?’

‘I don’t know how you put up with her.’ It was still early, but Michelle was already slurring. ‘Oh, I know what you do for Lydia. Giving her money, running around after her like a headless chicken. Mark my words, darling, she’s going to bleed you dry.’

‘Pass me those plates.’

Michelle picked up five plates from the counter and handed them to Karin, who placed them in the microwave to warm, and continued.

‘Let me give you some advice. Mollycoddling Lydia is a waste of time. She’s all take, take, take. Tough love is what she needs. Sooner or later she’s going to fling your friendship back in your face. She’s that type, she’ll always be that type. But you know that.’ The doorbell rang. ‘Speak of the devil.’

Karin called, ‘Can you get that, Paul?’