I assumed she meant Rowan. I’d done my utmost not to be the woman-moaning-about-her-partner-while-having-an-affair. It was a tired role. But from Fred’s facial shifts whenever he came up in conversation, I knew she had thoughts on it all. In the interest of holding everything together as it was for a little while longer, I used my best breezy voice and said, ‘He’s actually working tonight.’

There was a long pause. ‘I’ll be downstairs in thirty minutes.’

*

The bar was heaving with people. It had taken Fred so long to order two glasses of wine that by the time she’d elbowed her way to the front of the queue for the bar, I’d seen her change tactic and order a bottle instead. I’d been perched in a dimly lit corner on a high stool, leaning awkwardly on the table next to me and trying to pretend that this atmosphere, on a date night, felt normal. Mine and Rowan’s date nights had long ago devolved into dinners at home and films on Netflix; the girls were more likely to take me to a bar. But Fred had suggested celebratory drinks, and I was too excited in her company not to go along with the idea.

She bumped her way through the swaying bodies, set two glasses on the table and leaned in to kiss my cheek before sitting down herself.

‘To us,’ she said, when our glasses were half-full. ‘For being beautiful and successful.’

I laughed. ‘I’ll toast to successful.’

‘Edi …’ She paused to take a mouthful. ‘Why do you do that?’

‘Do what?’

‘Put your appearance down all the time.’

I’d never been called out on it by a love interest before. I’d never had a love interest before, apart from Rowan, I thought but then I shook the idea away. The girls had always told me I was beautiful. But that’s literally in the job description of being a good friend. Molly could arrive pockmarked with a PMS break-out and her hair half-curled from three days ago and I would have told her she looked beautiful; I would have done the same for any of them.

I shrugged. ‘I just don’t think I’m all that special.’

‘So …’ She lingered, looked at her glass. ‘Why should I have sex with you, if you aren’t all that special?’ My eyes stretched and she laughed. ‘I’m not asking you to actually explain why I should have sex with you. I already know why I should have sex with you. But why do you think it?’

‘My quick wit and sparkly personality.’ I used the flattest tone I could manage. ‘I’m a fucking delight to be around.’