The truth was, she’d always been dull. Her conversation had always been pedestrian. As the years had passed, she’d lost her enthusiasm for sex. She wasn’t good at intimacy of any sort. That was why she didn’t have more friends. No wonder Julian had sought out other women.

She wouldn’t say that she was barely holding it together. That controlling a class of twelve-year olds, never mind teaching them, took all of her strength. That she worried Bea and Alannah considered her a useless mother.

‘Stop it,’ she said. ‘You’re behaving like a fool.’

Of all weeks, why had Tess chosen this one?

Perhaps it wasn’t too late to put her off. Nina could call back and say, ‘No, sorry, I can’t meet you after all. I’ve got a migraine, toothache, leprosy.’ She could say, ‘I’ve managed without your friendship for twenty-five years and I don’t need it now.’

The doorbell rang.

Damn.

She ran the brush through her hair one last time.

Although Tess appeared tired, it didn’t take away from her elegance. She was wearing a dark green coat, cashmere by the look of it, and a striped scarf. She was carrying a large black box and a bottle of champagne.

‘Forty-eight, huh?’ she said. ‘Happy birthday.’

As she spoke, needles of icy rain started to fall.

Nina wanted to say, ‘Thank you.’ She wanted to say, ‘Come in. Please, come in.’ When she opened her mouth, all that came out was a silly little sound. Glug.

Then she began to cry.

‘You see,’ said Tess, ‘in a way, the unorthodox welcome was kind of handy. Otherwise we would have spent ages doing the whole ice-breaking thing. Instead, here we are. I’ve seen you covered in snot. You’ve seen me gaping like a particularly dim fish. Oh, and I know all about your lowlife of a husband.’

‘You were always good at accentuating the positive,’ said Nina, her eyes like raspberries, her face shiny as a new coin.

Tess had sat and listened as Nina, heavy tears rolling down her face, had sobbed her way through the story of Julian and his mistress. What a pitiful sight she’d made, her shoulders shaking, her self-belief in smithereens.