How often that word had floated in her consciousness, useless, like a birthday candle wish. Leave and go where? Home? She had not spoken to her mother since the week after her wedding, had not seen her father since she was six when he had emigrated to New Zealand. Men leave, women stay. Her mother had told her that, a glass in one hand, a cigarette in the other.

There was only one way Sara could leave. She had tried that, and failed, waking on a hospital bed hours later.

Amanda had come to her one evening, after five, when Sara left her office building, heading for the bus stop. Waiting for her on the corner. Sara had stopped when she saw her, considered turning, walking the other way. But Amanda had called her name, and she couldn’t ignore her.

They went for coffee. Even though Damien had said she shouldn’t drink coffee after lunchtime, that was why she couldn’t sleep at night. A new place, big leather-upholstered chairs and small, low tables, the kind of place you had to lean in to hear and be heard.

“We’re worried about you,” Amanda said, her elbows on her knees, her thumbnails clicking against each other. Her blonde hair curled on her shoulders, sharp blue eyes revealing the hardness of her, allowing no place to hide.

They had been friends since their first year at the University of Bath. Sara and Amanda, Chloe and Tanya too. So many nights spent drinking, talking, crying, laughing. They had been an army of four, laying waste to the city. Sara had never had friends like that before. Not since she’d been a child.

“Why?” Sara had said, honest in her question.

“When did we last hang out?” Amanda asked. “Just the four of us. No boyfriends or partners. When?”

Sara thought about it. “Hallowe’en,” she said. “We went out for Hallowe’en. Remember, that bloke in the Dracula costume wouldn’t stop pestering you.”

“It’s March,” Amanda said. “Nearly April. Six months. And Tanya wasn’t there. The four of us. When were we last together?”

“I’ve been busy,” Sara said.

“We’ve all been busy,” Amanda said. “I texted you just last week. I called. You didn’t answer.”

“Did you? Sorry, I should have—”

“Did you know that?” Amanda asked. “Or did Damien delete the messages from your phone?”

“Of course not.”

“Last night, we were chatting on WhatsApp.”

“What? No, we . . .”

Sara closed her mouth. Kept the words trapped.

Amanda leaned forward, took Sara’s hand in hers.

“You and I were chatting on WhatsApp last night,” she said, her voice gentler now. “We were talking about all sorts. Old boyfriends, for the most part. You were asking me questions. Questions you should’ve known the answers to.”