Bea knows all about my dad, his female friends, his long absences from home. The way I always felt I was competing for his attention when I was growing up. ‘Oh Rosie, I’m sorry. But he might not be like that at all, you hardly know the man.’

‘He will be like that, I can tell,’ I say stiffly.

All the warning signs are there. The cheeky winks; the way he made me feel important, as though I mattered. That sincere look. And that gorgeous laugh, that disarming laugh that almost persuaded me that seeing him again would be a good idea. Dad is like that, he’s sincere, appeals to something inside me that makes it impossible to say no. And before I know it, I’ve agreed to God knows what – like cleaning the hamster cage out. Which is fine when you’re ten years old and it’s something innocent, not so fine when you’re all grown up and it’s a whole lot more damaging than rodent droppings and sawdust.

Dad gets under your skin. Just like Noah does. For heaven’s sake, he kept me awake at night thinking about him, and I’ve only met him once!

I can tell exactly what he is like and getting involved with a man like that would be disastrous. Before I knew it, I’d be caught in his web, believing everything he said, and losing every bit of independence I thought I had. Like Mum did.

‘Not everybody stays the same.’ Bea’s voice is soft as she squeezes my shoulder. ‘People do change.’

‘They don’t. The heart of them, the real them deep inside never changes and you can either decide to work with it or leave. Mum told me that.’ My lovely mother, who had decided that walking away wasn’t for her. I stop looking at crumbs and meet Bea’s eye. ‘I am never going to put myself through that. I am never going to date somebody like that. I can’t work with it!’ She blinks. I think I might have shouted the last sentence out, and I know Bea’s preparing to launch herself into a speech about love and risk and highs and lows, so I say something quick to stop her. ‘Anyway, we were both drunk, he probably didn’t mean it.’

‘Well ring him. You said you had his number.’

‘Did I?’

She laughs. ‘Last night you said he put it in your phone!’

‘Ahh.’

‘Ring him, find out if he was being serious.’

‘No.’ That would be almost as embarrassing as a first date.

No way am I going to call him.

‘It’s a ridiculous idea.’

‘Why? Give me one good reason. Wow, this sauce is the best.’ She licks her lips in orgasmic ecstasy and I have a brief twinge of disappointment that I might never do that again. Orgasm – not eat hollandaise sauce. It would be so nice to find the other half of me to share my life with, even though right now it looks like it’s going to be position vacant for some time.