But she didn’t seem to be getting drunk. It wasn’t working. Handling her alcohol was, apparently, yet another thing at which Veronica excelled. Sarah felt herself growing more and more desperate, laughing too loudly, drinking too much.

When Veronica went to the bathroom, Sarah reached into her handbag for her phone. It was already late. Time was running out. She stuffed the phone angrily back into the folds of leather. And that’s when her hand brushed against the small bag of sedatives that she had packed for the MRI scan. An unbidden thought raced through her mind, and almost out of it. But Sarah grabbed on. It was perfect: vindication coated in the consequences of Veronica’s own original sin. Quickly, Sarah crushed the pills with the end of her phone, then tipped the lot into Veronica’s drink.

“Let’s play,” Sarah smiled on Veronica’s return.

“What?” Flopping down on the sofa next to her, Veronica reached for her contaminated glass and eyed Sarah. “Play?”

“To save your family’s life… No, truth or dare. Actually, let’s say truth, or drink.”

Veronica smiled wistfully. “Okay. But you have to answer honestly.”

Sarah grinned. “And the questions have to be hard.”

Both women laughed, echoes of childhood stroking their skin. The evening was hot again, and the school term nearly over, the long expanse of summer stretching before them, as ever. Veronica leant forward and abruptly kissed Sarah on the cheek. The surprise of it made Sarah giggle with an unexpected pleasure, but she had a plan, and stuck to it.

“I’ll start,” said Sarah.

Veronica readied her wine glass defiantly, and waited. “Hard, Sarah,” she goaded teasingly.

But this time, Sarah was ready, and her first question came easily. “Okay. Why did you visit David at the museum?”

Immediately, Veronica’s face dropped. “I shouldn’t have,” she said. “I—”

“That’s not an answer,” Sarah interrupted. “Drink.”

Veronica took a deep sip from her glass. As she did so, she kept her eyes firmly on Sarah. “My turn,” she said when she came up for air. “Why didn’t you want to reconnect?”

“What?” Now it was Sarah who looked flustered.

“Why didn’t you want to see me? When we first saw each other at school, I was so happy to find you there. And I know you were avoiding me.”

It took Sarah a long, uncomfortable moment to work out how to reply to this without giving away her hidden fury, her deep-rooted resentments. But she was determined not to be pushed onto the back foot. “Because I didn’t want to be reminded of what used to be,” she answered eventually.

At this, Sarah noticed Veronica’s eyes cloud in confusion. “You don’t have good memories about us?”

“I have all sorts of memories,” answered Sarah. “Some good, some not. Some about you. Some about my sister Eliza. You know she died recently?”

“What?”

“She died. In a car crash. Picking me up because I’m too scared to take the tube.”

“What? Oh my God, Sarah. That’s awful. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”