She’d done most of the talking, and Tom had been a great listener. It was only now, with a slightly clearer head, that she realised she’d talked too much. Not that she regretted what she’d said, more that she’d missed her cues. On reflection, she saw that Tom had also wanted to speak and, blabbermouth that she was, Tess hadn’t given him enough space.

On the outskirts of Dublin, she pulled into the car park of a small shopping centre, the kind of place that didn’t contain any actual shops, just fast-food joints and bookmakers in boxes of concrete and plastic. The sky was quilted with white. She opened her bag and took out her phone.

Nina’s hair had always been troublesome but in her forties it had become a total fright. She’d developed a cowlick on the left side to match the one on the right. Oh, and her roots needed doing.

‘You’re being ridiculous,’ she said to the haggard woman in the mirror. ‘It’s only hair. What does it matter?’

Nina had been blindsided by Tess’s call. She’d been on her lunch break and, not recognising the English number, had assumed one of the girls was ringing to wish her a happy birthday.

‘Hello, love,’ she’d said. ‘How are things?’

‘What a greeting,’ Tess had replied. ‘And things aren’t great. I’ve got the hangover from hell. At least Mercedes went out in style.’

Nina had burbled something about the unknown number.

‘I’m in Dublin,’ Tess had continued. ‘Your parents said you were on your own, so I thought I’d say hello. May I come visiting?’

What could she do but say yes?

It was six o’clock now, and Tess was due at any moment.

While Nina made another attempt at taming her hair, she urged herself not to stress. They’d have a drink. A chat. Nothing heavy. She wouldn’t say anything about Julian. She’d make light of being on her own. ‘I’m not a birthday person,’ she’d say. ‘Never have been. You know that.’ Come to think of it, Tess hadn’t mentioned her birthday. Well, she wouldn’t have remembered. Why should she? That Nina remembered Tess’s birthday – the ninth of November – was neither here nor there.

What else wouldn’t she say? She definitely wouldn’t reveal that she was in the middle of the worst bout of self-recrimination she’d ever experienced. She wouldn’t say that she spent every blessed minute thinking about what she should have done differently. That she should have been more assertive, more engaged, more interesting.