‘That really stinks, that’s what that is,’ Tracey said.

Sylvia saw the expression on Maggie’s face. She couldn’t think of a worse job for her best friend, who’d always hated maths at school, but she knew Maggie wouldn’t dare say no to her father’s plans for her. ‘That’s just a stopgap until you figure out what you want to do, right Mags?’

Maggie blew her fringe off her forehead. ‘Try telling that to Dad.’

‘Okay, temporary bank teller. Just until you get married and have kids. I reckon you’ll have three.’

‘You’re talking out of your backside, Gills,’ Tracey said.

‘Stop being such a spoilsport, it’s just for fun, okay? I’m going to keep this and then one day in twenty years or something we’ll meet up and laugh about what we said.’ Gilly gave them all a pointed stare and wrote down ‘three kids’ in big letters next to Maggie’s name. ‘Right, how about Sylvia?’

‘Prime minister!’ Janine said.

‘Astronaut!’

‘Stop taking the piss,’ Sylvia said. She’d always felt faintly embarrassed by her reputation at school. She couldn’t help it if she did well in exams. She couldn’t help being interested in things. But it had never been cool to be academic, so she’d apologised for herself, almost been pleased when she’d got a B instead of an A in a test, just so she could feel she fitted in with the other kids. But all that was behind her now, she realised. Today was the end of all that. She’d been released from the shackles of schoolyard social pressures and would be going to Oxford, where no one, she was sure, ever had to apologise for doing well.

‘I know what.’ Maggie put her arm around her and smiled. ‘She’s going to be a newspaper editor on Fleet Street.’

Sylvia snorted. ‘Like that’s possible,’ she said. But as the smell of summer mingled with the thrill of the new, she thought, yes, maybe I just will.

That all seemed so long ago now. How cross she would have been with her future self if she’d known what would happen! She couldn’t bear the thought she’d potentially squandered her opportunity for freedom so soon after escaping the limitations of childhood. She thought of the women she’d met in Switzerland, how much she admired their fight, and felt determination well up in her again. A baby simply wasn’t part of her plan. It would ruin everything.

‘What does Jim think?’ Maggie said.

Sylvia shook her head, staring at Peter Falk as he cuffed the murderer. ‘I haven’t told him.’

Maggie’s eyes narrowed. ‘And when will you?’

‘I don’t know. When I’ve sorted out in my head what I want to do.’

‘You’re not considering…?’

Sylvia looked at her. ‘Maybe. At least, I’m going to look into it.’