Straightening up, I start to walk again, a thick, hard lump in my throat. Maybe Rupert is right. Maybe I am just imagining it all.

‘Emily!’ Amanda opens the door with a grin, ushering me through into the huge kitchen, where I take off my coat and sink gratefully into a chair, my body still sticky with sweat from my impromptu run.

‘Sorry, I’m a bit early,’ I say, glancing at the clock. Sadie isn’t here yet. ‘It didn’t take me quite as long as I thought it would to walk over.’

‘Oh God, you didn’t go through that dodgy underpass, did you? I’m always terrified walking through there; I’m convinced that someone is following me every time I walk through it.’

‘It was fine,’ I lie, saved by the sound of the front door slamming closed, as Sadie makes an appearance, dramatically kissing Amanda on the cheek and complaining about the traffic.

‘Emily—’ she kisses my cheek too, leaving a jammy red lipstick stain on my skin, ‘gosh, you are keen, aren’t you? I thought I was the early one! Still, I suppose you didn’t have much to do this morning, did you? Amanda, please tell me you got some of those gorgeous little macarons. We have to let Emily try them!’

I smile, though the thought of eating anything right now, even ‘gorgeous little macarons’, makes me want to heave.

‘Ladies, it feels like ages since we were all together,’ Sadie announces, as she pops the cork on a bottle of champagne. I groan inwardly – Sadie is only ever concerned with every event being a party – and I am too exhausted to try and battle the headache that is sure to follow drinking champagne at one o’clock in the afternoon. Amanda also doesn’t look too thrilled by Sadie’s decision to get the booze out.

‘I’m not sure I fancy it, to be honest,’ I say to Sadie. ‘I’ve got a bit of a headache already and you know that champagne doesn’t agree with me.’ Not strictly true, and Sadie knows it but as I suspect, she doesn’t challenge me.

‘You do look a little bit peaky,’ Sadie says, lowering the bottle. ‘Are you feeling OK? Look at her, Amanda. Doesn’t Emily look a bit pale?’

‘I suppose so. A bit tired, maybe.’ Amanda shrugs, before she turns to the oven to pull out the macaroni cheese. ‘Sorry, ladies, it’s only something simple I threw together.’

It doesn’t look thrown together. It actually looks quite fancy, if macaroni cheese can look fancy. ‘Looks delicious,’ I say, even though the heavy smell of cheese is turning my stomach.