Daisy smiles tightly. “I’ve been doing a bit of thinking.”

“Dangerous stuff.” I half sit, half fall onto my mattress and groan as I untie my boots and ease them off. My sodden socks cling to my feet. I yank off too then root around in my backpack for my towel, shower gel, shampoo and conditioner.

“Don’t.” Daisy’s smile vanishes. “Don’t try to be funny.”

“What’s the matter with you? I thought you’d be pleased to see us.”

“Not particularly.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Daisy.” I release the armful of toiletries I’ve gathered and give her my full attention. “What is it?”

“Enjoy slagging me off behind my back, do you?”

“What?”

“Don’t play the innocent, Emma, it doesn’t suit you. Apparently, you and Al were having a good old bitching session about me.”

“Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter who told me. What matters is that you were overheard.”

“Was it Leanne?” I think of the two of them, huddled together under the trees the night before.

“I told you, it doesn’t matter.”

“Fine, don’t tell me who it was, then, but we weren’t bitching about you.”

“No? So you don’t think I’m in competition with you.” She throws back her head and laughs. “Seriously, Emma. You really believe that?”

“I didn’t say that, Al did.”

She rests her elbows on her knees and leans towards me. “But you said I was embarrassing and weird, didn’t you?”

“I said it was embarrassing and weird when you go after men I’m interested in. Elliot, that guy you tried to push out of the taxi, he told me you tried to kiss him when I was in the toilet. And then there was that guy I met at Heavenly. I saw you on the floor with him at his house.”

“My God, Emma.” She looks up and the ceiling and smirks. “Elliot again! What is it with that guy? You seem determined to let him come between us.”

“This isn’t about him, Daisy. This is about you.”

“No, Emma.” She jabs me in the bicep with her index finger. “This is about you siding with some random bloke who couldn’t give a shit about you over me. Your best friend for seven years.”

I rub my arm. “I’m not siding with anyone. But I am sick and tired I am of everything being about men all the time. We can’t go to the pub and have a drink without you eyeing someone up. We can’t go for a meal without you spending the whole time analysing the behaviour of some guy you’re interested in. And we can’t go to a club just to have fun and dance; it’s all about pulling men.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? You pulled the bouncer when we went to get Al out of Malice.”