Al shakes her head. The hems of her jeans are wet with rainwater and the laces of one of her trainers are untied. There’s cellophane poking out from beneath the arm of her T-shirt. She’s had another tattoo but I can’t make out what it is.

Leanne catches my eye, as though noticing me for the first time. She’s dyed her fringe pink since the last time I saw her. Her sharp black bob has always looked a bit severe, but with the pink streak and her new thick-rimmed black “geek” specs dominating her thin face, she looks like she’s wearing a motorbike helmet.

She shrugs and angles her arm towards me so I can read the time on her Mickey Mouse watch. It’s midnight. She flashes her fingers at me then holds up two more. Shit, Al’s been drinking for twelve hours.

This isn’t the first time Leanne’s had to call Daisy and me to take Al home. At five foot six, fourteen stone and bull-like in temperament, it takes all four of us to manoeuvre Al anywhere, especially when she’s drunk. Simone used to manage it, but she had an advantage: Al was in love with her. She could always talk her into going home, no matter how much she’d had to drink.

Two of the girls washing their hands in the sink behind me start laughing, and Al looks up.

“Are they laughing at me? Are you fucking laughing at me?” She half rises but Leanne presses down on her shoulder and Daisy grips hold of her wrist so Al is rooted to the toilet.

I glance behind me. “They can’t even see you.”

“They know.” Al runs a hand over her Mohican. “Everyone knows. I’m a fucking laughing stock.”

“No, you’re not,” Daisy says. “Relationships end all the time, Al. No one’s judging you.”

“Oh yeah? Then why did Jess on reception say ‘Ticket for one?’ when I came in?”

“Because you came alone?”

“Oh, fuck off, Daisy” – she yanks her hand out of Daisy’s grip – “what would you know? You haven’t been dumped once in your whole life.”

“Well, I have,” I say, “and I know how much it hurts, especially if they leave you for someone else. I’d had my suspicions about Jake for a while, but then when he—”

“Emma!” Leanne makes a stop talking gesture with her finger across her throat.

“Not that Simone left you for someone else,” I say, but it’s too late. Al’s on her feet and barging past me.

“If she’s here with that fucking bitch, today of all days, I’m going to swing for her. I’ll swing for both of them. Fucking baby dyke bitches.”

“Al!” Daisy totters after her, reaching for her arm. “She’s not worth it. Al!”