“To stop him chucking her out!”

“We were leaving anyway! And now we’re halfway around the world and you’re obsessed with pulling Isaac.” I gather up my towel and toiletries and stand up. “I can’t be bothered having this conversation any more. I’m going to have a shower.”

“No.” She grabs my wrist. “We’re not finished yet.”

I shake her off. “Yes, we are.”

“I think we need to take a break,” she shouts as I cross the room.

“What?” I turn to look at her.

“I had a little chat with Johan and Leanne after you and Al left, and they think we’re unnaturally attached.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Our friendship. We’ve been living in each other’s pockets for years, and a lot of resentment has built up over that time.” She gestures towards the mattress I was sitting on. “The conversation we just had confirmed that.”

The situation is so ridiculously melodramatic that I can’t help but smile. “So you’re breaking up with me?”

She shrugs. “I think we should spend less time together.”

“Because of one argument?”

“No, because we’re too attached to each other. Leanne was telling me what Isaac was talking about in the seminar she went to – about how our attachments to people and things make us stressed and anxious and jealous and bitter, and how, if we can let go of those attachments, it’s easier to be happy.”

“And you think you’d be happier if we weren’t friends?”

She shrugs again and, for the first time in the conversation, she breaks eye contact with me and looks away. I don’t know whether to cry or throw my shampoo bottle at her head.

“Guys!” Leanne speeds into the room and throws herself at Daisy. She laughs as they overbalance and fall onto the mattress, a tangled mass of clothing and limbs and, for a second, I relax, relieved that the horribly awkward conversation with Daisy has come to an end.

“Come on, Hopalong!” Leanne shouts as Al hobbles into the room, her ankle heavily strapped. “It’s still pissing down outside so I thought we could play cards. How about Hunt the Bitch?” She looks up at me and smiles widely. “Want to play, Emma?”

“Are you calling Emma a bitch?” Al says as she gingerly lowers herself onto the mattress beside Leanne and winks at me.

“No.” Daisy props herself up on her elbow and flicks Al on the nose. “Leanne got the name of the game wrong. It’s Hunt the Cunt!”

Al and Leanne snort with amusement, and it’s like our second night in Pokhara all over again, only this time there’s no playful tone to Daisy’s teasing and no friendly sparkle in her eyes. She doesn’t look at me once to check that I’m laughing along with the others. It’s as though I no longer exist.