‘Don’t look at me that way,’ Gabi added, frowning. ‘After Joel, I’m done with men, remember?’

Anna nodded slightly. ‘I do remember you telling me that.’ Whether it lasted remained to be seen. Right at that second, Anna would have bet twenty quid on her friend’s lips being locked onto someone else’s come midnight.

But Anna couldn’t begrudge her that. The break-up with Joel had been almost five years ago. To be honest, Anna hadn’t been sad to see the back of him – he hadn’t appreciated Gabi nearly enough – but Gabi hadn’t seen it that way and she’d been broken-hearted. Since then, there had been a handful of short-lived relationships. Gabi liked guys who were confident, but more often than not, ‘confident’ turned out to be ‘cocky and self-absorbed’. Not qualities that lent themselves to a mature, long-lasting partnership.

‘It’s true,’ Gabi added, looking so convincing Anna almost believed her. ‘Are you ready?’

Anna glanced up at the staircase, beyond which her duvet cocoon lay waiting, and sighed. At least one of them should have something to hope for this evening as they crossed the threshold from this old, tired year into the fresh blankness of the next.

She forced the corners of her mouth to turn up. ‘Of course. Give me two seconds. I’ll just grab my coat and put on my shoes.’

Chapter Two

IN AN IDEAL world, Anna thought, I would arrive at every party an hour and a half late. That way she could skip the beginning, when everyone was buzzing with optimism about the night ahead, full of loud hellos and instantly forgotten introductions.

Gabi worked as a food stylist, in charge of making the pictures of dishes in cookbooks and magazines appear mouth-watering. Over the years, she’d encountered an eclectic mixture of people, from photographers and art directors, to magazine editors, stylists and TV presenters. The party that evening was being hosted by an ex-pat Californian who owned a chain of south London beauty salons. Vanessa lived in Chislehurst, and as Anna drove to their destination, the houses became progressively grander, the streets leafier. It was only a couple of miles away from Anna’s semi-detached in Sundridge Park, but it seemed like a different world.

She trailed around the ground floor of the stylish house behind Gabi, a glass of untouched fizz in her hand. Every time Gabi managed to extricate herself from one group of excitable extroverts, she was instantly dragged into another, most of whom Anna didn’t know. Anna just hovered around the edges, keeping her expression friendly but neutral, and avoiding eye contact as much as possible.

The advantage of having a more outgoing friend who seemed to know ninety per cent of the other guests was that the conversation eddied around Anna, much the same way a stream flowed around a rock in its path, and that was fine by her. Because with small talk came questions, and she wasn’t particularly keen on questions, not the personal kind, anyway, and the one question she really didn’t want to hear was—