Chloe’s heart was flickering, her blood suddenly hotter. Was Max about to tell her that he knew something about Zadie? Where she was? How was it possible that he could know? Chloe had spent hours – probably days – looking her up on the internet. She had scoured every social networking website, trying to find a profile for her. She’d searched the Births, Deaths and Marriages register. She’d read the comments sections of articles she thought Zadie would like, looked out for her in crowds on the street and searched the backgrounds of TV programmes. She’d even considered hiring a private investigator and had only been prevented from doing so because she couldn’t find the money to do it without Rav noticing.

‘Have you?’

‘I asked first,’ Max said, a challenging note in his voice.

‘This isn’t funny.’

‘It’s not supposed to be.’

‘Have you heard from her?’

Max shook his head. ‘Nothing, not since the night she left. Have you?’

Chloe hesitated. She wanted to tell him yes. She wanted to tell him that Zadie had called her, told her the truth about everything that had ever happened between them, confirmed every suspicion that Chloe had ever had. But it wasn’t true. Zadie had cut both of them out of her life in the exact same moment.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Nothing.’

She walked through and put the jug back down on the table, and Max reappeared beside her with a bottle of white wine. He kissed Verity on the neck. ‘Your favourite bottle, my darling.’

‘You took your time,’ said Rav. ‘Everything okay?’

Chloe nodded. ‘Everything’s perfect.’

Verity produced a pudding, which no one seemed very interested in eating. Rav eventually asked if he could have a cigarette in the garden, which prompted Chloe to realize that he’d clearly been desperate for one, but holding back, for most of the evening. God, he really did want Max to like him. She watched his face light up when Verity said she would join him and took a packet of French cigarettes and an engraved lighter from a drawer. Max and Chloe sat at the dining table, looking into the garden. Verity even smoked elegantly, and Rav’s shoulders seemed to drop several inches from his first drag.

‘She’s not perfect, then,’ Chloe couldn’t resist saying.

‘No?’

‘You complained about Zadie smoking all the time.’

Zadie’s name felt good on her lips. She could almost pretend that things hadn’t come crashing down, that all three of them had remained friends and that here they were, adults, sitting together while their friend Zadie was in the next room, or unable to attend this evening because she was at home with a baby or busy at work. It was a nice little fantasy. It felt safe.

‘Did I?’

‘Yes. You said it was like kissing an ashtray, which was really unimaginative, but probably true. I don’t like it on Rav.’