Hollie stops stirring to admire them. She has these gels done, long nails that curl slightly at the top. They’re always painted like miniature portraits, with little flowers or glittery tips. Hollie calls it her guilty pleasure, though Chloe isn’t sure what she has to feel guilty about and has never asked. She wouldn’t have them done herself, though she has walked past the kind of nail salons that Hollie visits. Chloe has never so much as put nail polish on her own fingers. She knows they must look odd sitting here in this cafe together. From the outside they are a mismatch, Chloe knows this. She’s always felt like the fat, ugly friend next to Hollie. But Chloe can honestly say she’s never resented her for it, perhaps because Hollie is the most loyal person she knows. Most people aren’t to be trusted; they always break promises in the end. But not Hollie. Chloe can’t remember a single time she’s ever let her down. And it wasn’t Hollie’s fault their lives turned out so differently. It could easily have been Chloe sitting across the table now, her nails perfectly manicured, her hair freshly blow-dried. She often thinks about this when she walks past happy dogs and their owners in the street, how easily someone might have stopped at the next kennel along. At the end of the day, it all comes down to fate. Which is why Chloe tends to take it into her own hands these days.

‘Hello? Earth to Chloe?’ Hollie laughs.

‘Oh, sorry, I was miles away.’

Hollie drops her hands back on top of her friend’s.

‘You’re bound to be,’ she says. ‘It would be a shock for anyone. Is there no one else you could—’

Chloe looks up quickly, and Hollie stops herself.

‘No, of course there isn’t,’ Hollie says.

Now it’s Chloe’s turn to look down into her drink.

The good thing about Hollie is she knows not to probe; perhaps that is why their friendship has endured. Hollie understands there’s a time to speak in clichés, that there’s safety to be found there for both of them. Chloe has seen it in other friendships she has observed, this dance two women can become accustomed to, a way of keeping their shared history preserved in politeness. Not that she can call to mind any other female friendships she’s enjoyed.

Hollie takes a breath. ‘Do the police have any leads?’

Chloe shakes her head, and as she does a tiny twig drops onto the table. Hollie collects it and holds it up like a question mark between them.

‘I searched a copse near the cemetery when I found she was missing, it must be from then.’

Hollie looks concerned.

‘But I feel helpless, just waiting for news,’ Chloe says. ‘I keep thinking, what if I missed something? Maybe I should go back for another—’