I’d drunk the whole bottle of Prosecco and half a bottle of red wine by the time we finished dessert; I could feel the flush in my cheeks, the giddiness of the hit. Grace was telling me at length about the jobs she’d held in Australia – the places she’d travelled, the people she’d met – but I wasn’t really listening: I was distracted by the Australian twang that softened the edges of her words; the inflection that rose slightly at the end of each sentence as she talked. She really liked the sound of her own voice. Always had. I shoved my chair back, piled the dishes in the sink and squirted washing-up liquid over them.

Grace interrupted her soliloquy. ‘Don’t do that now. I want to see your work.’

I fell still, my back to her, the breath wheezing out of me like an old bagpipe as I squeezed my eyes shut.

‘Come on, Abs,’ she cajoled. ‘It’s me. I was the first person ever to see your art, remember? That very first painting?’

I turned to her, only half my lips smiling. ‘How could I forget?’

I hadn’t intended to show Grace my work at university. Art was my therapy; the landscape an intimacy between me and the canvas. I kept it hidden and I told Grace never to look. But one night, way later than I ever expected her to knock, she burst through the door while my canvas was exposed and I froze, heart hammering. There was nowhere to turn; nothing to do but let her see it.

Grace also stopped in her tracks. She tried to hide her reaction, but I saw her stiffen and swallow. Her gasp was barely audible, but it was there. As the door clicked shut behind her, she opened her mouth.

‘Wow,’ she breathed. She took a step closer, unable to tear her eyes from the canvas. Her mouth fell open as she looked from me to it, examining the horror of the scene. ‘Really, wow. Oh my God, Abs. This is unreal.’

And then she found more words and, all the while she spoke, she was giving me this look – a look like she couldn’t believe that little old Abigail, the stuffy Management student, had painted something so raw, so compelling. So horrific.

She shook her head. ‘This is it, Abs. This really is your thing. Shit. You’re amazing. I’ve never seen stuff like this. It’s incredible.’

But then everything changed as the doctor in her had taken over. She knelt down in front of me as I sat on the bed, and took my hands gently in hers.