“I feel contaminated by Camilla’s return. I don’t like it. She’s someone from the past I don’t want around, especially not while I’m trying so hard to build a new life after Ben’s betrayal.”

“Contaminated?”

“It’s hard to explain without making it sound too possessive or trite, but Nina and I were a definite duo. Friends came and went, as, of course, they naturally tend to, but we were always there for each other. Camilla shoehorned her way in to the friendship. She’s a very forceful character. Nina, especially as we got older, liked to think of herself as a free spirit in a floaty, artistic, ‘aren’t I chill?’ kind of a way, so she wasn’t always great with boundaries. It was all ‘easy come, easy go, the more the merrier.’ Expect it wasn’t merrier for me.”

“In what way?”

“Nina and I went on holiday to Ibiza after we left college. Camilla was there, too, although she went out earlier because she got a summer job—a seedy one, in my personal opinion—and spent her time off with us. My boyfriend at the time, Charlie, flew out toward the end of our break.”

I stop.

Christian doesn’t respond or react.

Was that the holiday that did it? Melanoma. Nina was unlucky apparently. Her diagnosis was late; caught up in the demands of motherhood and real life, she’d neglected herself.

It is quiet. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, mute, reliving the past in my head, barely aware of Christian. I wonder how he does it, just sits there watching someone who isn’t speaking? It’s unnerving.

I lost a best friend once before, when I was young, Amelia. Her parents moved her to a new school because—apparently—I wouldn’t “allow” her to be friends with anyone other than me.

Thankfully, Nina was moved to my class not long afterward. I studied her from the seat behind. I watched what she liked to do at break time, learned what her favorite subjects were (art, PE and drama). She had a packed lunch every Monday, so I did, too, otherwise we had to sit at different tables. I invited Nina to tea one Friday and persuaded my mother to buy all her favorite foods. From then on, Nina and I were inseparable.

“It was me who suggested Ibiza,” I say out loud. “And me who insisted on staying on the beach all day. I tan easily. Nina never did.”

“You sound like you blame yourself for a lot.”

“Nina told me that the holiday ruined her life.” When I tried to remind her of all the good times and how she wouldn’t have met Stuart if we hadn’t chosen that particular trip, or the bar where we first met him (true serendipity), or as a result of their meeting have had her beautiful children, she was dismissive.

I falter. I don’t know why I’m talking about this, it’s so long ago. It’s Camilla, she’s riled me.

I glance at the clock. Thank God we’re nearly out of time because I know how it works. Christian will gently discourage me from getting into anything too upsetting at the eleventh hour. Because I know I won’t have the opportunity to dig too deep, or elaborate, I take a breath and get something off my chest.