Afterwards, when we’re back downstairs having another glass of wine and trying to salvage the ruins of our dinner, I push away the tiny voice that wonders if Toby was being entirely truthful.

Thirteen

EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO

I stand on the wooden porch, knocking on the door impatiently, hoping and praying that my best friend Cassie is home. She doesn’t have a Saturday job, so she’ll either be revising or she’ll have gone shopping in Salisbury. I can’t wait to tell her my news.

At last, she pulls open the door, dressed in leggings and a baggy sweatshirt, her blonde curls pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. ‘Zoe!’ she squeals. ‘I didn’t know you were coming over.’ She flings her arms around me and we hug, even though we only saw one another yesterday. ‘I’m so happy to see you – French revision is doing my head in. Quick, let’s go upstairs before they come out of the kitchen and start trying to be sociable.’

I giggle. Cassie’s parents are lovely, and they always show such an interest in me and my life, but Cass hates it when they start talking to her friends. I think she’s embarrassed by them. If you ask me, she’s lucky. I’d rather have enthusiastic parents like that than disinterested ones like my dad. Not that I don’t want my dad. It’s just… it’s complicated. I follow Cassie up to her bedroom where she closes the door and bounces onto her king-size bed.

The floor is littered with books, clothes and make-up. I pick my way through the debris, slip off my shoes, and sit cross-legged on the bed next to her. ‘Revision not going so well?’

‘Ugh, kill me now. Can we please fast-forward to July when all our exams are over, and we have nothing but weeks of chilling out in the sunshine?’

‘Yes, please. I can’t wait.’

‘Why aren’t you at Waves?’ She always does a little wave with both hands when she says it. ‘I thought you were working today.’

‘I was. I’ve finished – it’s almost six o’clock.’

‘Is it? I thought it was about four. I’ve been swallowed up by revision all afternoon. Don’t know why I’m bothering because I don’t even need A-levels. It’s not like I’m going to university or anything, even though Dad’s now trying to bribe me to go.’