‘Are you going to wear the blue dress?’ Mark winked at her as she opened the cupboard. She pulled out the dress he’d bought her not long after they’d first met. Fitted, but not too tight, with off-the-shoulder cap sleeves, full length with a long split up one side.

At the whisky bar, the noise was so deafening it was hard to hear anyone speak. Most of Mark’s colleagues were there and acknowledged her in greeting but didn’t bother to make conversation. Some of Mark’s friends had also managed to come after a quick round of texts.

Nicky kept an eye on the bar door while pretending to be interested in whatever the monotone secretary from the firm was telling her. Mark was holding court, receiving congratulatory pats on his back, and beaming from ear to ear. She was so proud of him, even if she had trouble mustering any real enthusiasm for the festivities around her.

Dressed in a tight black dress, her best friend, Jane, burst into the bar, her tall frame enabling Nicky to catch sight of her immediately. Jane pushed her way through the crowd and hugged Nicky when she got to her.

Jane bent slightly and whispered in her ear, ‘You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.’

‘No. It’s okay. He’s earned this,’ she replied, looking fondly over at Mark.

‘Maybe so. But I think we both could do with a drink.’ She threw her long blonde plait over her shoulder.

They tucked themselves away in a dimly lit corner of the bar. It was marginally quieter than where the rest of their party was. The quilted leather benches were soft and comfortable, the large pillar candles in the middle of the dark wooden tables let off a gentle yellow glow.

‘So, what’s the downer?’ Jane asked as she sipped on her single malt.

Nicky drank her water and told Jane about her latest rejection.

‘Oh, bugger,’ Jane sighed. ‘Serving smashed avo on sourdough tomorrow to the tourists should make you feel better. Not.’

They clinked their glasses in toast of Nicky’s weekend job. Monday to Wednesday she worked at an accounting firm, and weekends she waited tables in a little café down near The Rocks. It wasn’t such a bad working life. Having Thursday and Friday as her weekend did mean she could tuck herself away and write without distraction. Though the downside of having a different weekend from the rest of the world was nights like tonight, when everyone else was partying hard and she had to be up at five for a six o’clock start.

Not that she was a stranger to early starts. Since she first started writing she’d got up at five-fifteen on the dot every workday to get an uninterrupted two hours writing done.