When Chloe got to Max and Zadie’s bedroom she opened the door to see a scene of unbelievable perfection. Zadie facing away, looking into the dressing-table mirror, wearing a white silk robe and white silk underwear, a glass of champagne in one hand. Her hair was freshly washed and dried, shimmering in perfect curls, her lips bee-stung and pale pink. Her skin seemed to glitter and her huge green eyes were rimmed with the kind of lashes people paid for. Chloe hadn’t ever seen her like this. She was always beautiful – her amazing genes and seemingly limitless clothing budget made sure of that. But this was a different kind of beautiful. The last few weeks of slowing down, drinking wine with dinner instead of vodka at 4 a.m., had made a world of difference. She looked happy. Right. Max was bending to kiss her neck, wearing the trousers and shirt from his black tie, the bow tie draped around his neck. Sitting above Zadie’s collarbones was a diamond necklace so sparkly it could only be real.

‘Coco! Look what Max gave me!’

‘I thought you were supposed to get presents on your birthday, not give them?’

Max shrugged. ‘I saw it and thought of her. Isn’t she a knockout?’ Zadie giggled, clearly aware that everything Max was saying was true. ‘You look lovely, too, Chloe.’

Chloe had felt pretty when she’d left her room. Rav had kissed her neck and told her that she was gorgeous. Her hair had looked straight and sleek, and she’d ventured into the frightening territory of red lipstick, trying to contrast with the pretty green dress she’d spent a week of her student loan on. But now she felt silly. Frumpy. Like someone’s single older sister, allowed to tag along to a party out of sympathy.

‘What were you up to this afternoon?’ Max asked, filling up a glass and passing it to her. ‘I noticed Rav wasn’t on the walk either.’

‘I was reading,’ she lied. If Max noticed that she had gone dark pink, then he had the civility not to mention it.

Zadie was still looking in the mirror, neatening her lip liner. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Max. Chloe knows Rav is horrid.’

‘Why is he horrid? I like him. That’s why I invited him.’

‘He is horrid. Everyone says it. You just like him because he’s good at rugby and he laughs at all your jokes.’

‘There are worse attributes for a bloke to have.’

Zadie stood, spritzed herself liberally with a Chanel perfume then took down the white silk dress which was hanging from the four-poster. ‘Do me up,’ she said, with the silk pooled at her feet and halfway up her body. Chloe and Max moved at the same time. They laughed awkwardly.

‘Which of us?’ asked Max.

‘Chloe. She’s got smaller fingers. She’ll manage the little buttons better.’