On the morning of Ellen’s departure, Kate turned up on the doorstep, of course, wearing her glasses, which she never usually wore in public. Her eyes looked small and watery. Ellen said goodbye and Kate made her promise not to turn into a nerd. And then Ellen climbed into the car with Linda (John was staying at home – there was football on) and sat in the passenger seat, knees almost up around her ears. They’d packed the rest of the car with her entire room, including the saucepan and the cookbook and the bed socks. Her mother chattered and Ellen responded to every third request, while she watched the cul-de-sacs slide past.

She was leaving a blank place and gaining a blank slate.

19. Alexa

She and Ellen had bickered countless times, of course. They had sat beside each other sulking, on trains and on sofas, and on walks home from the Tube, during silent breakfasts where the air was loaded with grievances and swallowed asides. And there were little things that annoyed each one about the other. For example, Alexa always, inwardly, rolled her eyes every time Ellen told someone about her job at The Flowdown and reeled off the same six or so jokes (‘I’m such a fanny’, ‘It’s a place for twats who like talking about vaginas’).

But while Ellen’s grudges were legion, and mythical, she was usually more lenient with Alexa. As a result, they’d only ever fought properly once. It had been over Linda and John. This was at university – their third year, maybe – and Ellen had made a cruel, snide remark about her parents, who had been enthusing about a new Bella Italia on the high street near them, and Alexa had snapped at her.

‘You’re so rude about your parents,’ she’d said, acidly.

Ellen had been taken aback, and – instantly – furious. ‘They’re my parents, and I can say what I want about them,’ she’d retorted, babyishly.

And then, suddenly, they’d been off, the argument building to a crescendo, clichés being brandished on both sides, Alexa calling Ellen a brat and Ellen retorting that, just because her parents loved her, it didn’t mean she had to be nice about them all the time. Then Alexa – it had definitely been her – had grabbed her scarf and her black felt coat and said something like, ‘Look, I’m sorry but I just can’t listen to this’, and then she’d stormed out of the coffee shop near the faculty, where they always sat in between lectures. She recalled the crisp peal of the bell above the door, when it opened, inviting the chill air in.

They hadn’t spoken for two whole days, and then Alexa had finally relented and sent a text. She remembered now the craft that had gone into it, the forty-eight hours of precision and redrafting and inserting and deleting commas.