It shouldn’t matter, she knew that. But she hated January. It always filled her with this sort of sadness, like a pendulum in her chest. Other people seemed to be able to accept that Christmas was over, packing away decorations, pulling on Lycra leggings and embarking on diets. But Zadie found the passing of time, the way that the national mood shifted from celebration to misery in a matter of hours, unbearable. She gazed at her feet as she tramped back up to her room. She had called Max to see when he’d be home, because she couldn’t face another afternoon at home alone, but he wasn’t picking up. So she had time to kill here.

To her surprise, Chloe was sitting at the desk in their room, books spread out in front of her.

‘You’re already working?’ asked Zadie.

Chloe looked startled. Embarrassed, even. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I got my marks back for the end-of-term exams, and I didn’t do well. Plus, I missed a whole load of lectures last term, too hung over to go. I’ve got some make-up essays to write, otherwise they’re going to get properly stressy with me. I have to send this piece of work in by midnight.’

Zadie looked sadly at all Chloe’s books and felt guilty, not for the first time, that she only had three hours of lectures a week, and that she had a note from her psychologist saying that she shouldn’t be placed under undue pressure, lest it trigger a breakdown.

‘Have you got lots left to do?’ she asked, flopping on to her bed. ‘I was thinking we could go out.’

She shouldn’t tempt Chloe. She knew that. At school she had been moved from room-sharing with girl after girl when their parents had complained that Zadie was a distraction. And it was true. Just because she could dash off an essay in an hour and get a passing grade didn’t mean that everyone else could. And she tried to be grown-up about that. But the idea of an afternoon sitting alone, waiting for Max, was too much.

‘I shouldn’t,’ said Chloe.

‘We could just go into town for a little bit of shopping. And then maybe a glass of wine. You’d be back here by, like, five. You could work all evening.’

Chloe hadn’t wanted to go into Feight, the boutique on the high street with the whippet-thin assistants and the sofas for bored husbands. But Zadie had insisted. Then she had forced Chloe to try on dress after dress. As Chloe came out of the changing room and smiled at her reflection in the mirror, a warm feeling flooded Zadie’s insides. It made her feel better. Bad people didn’t get joy out of buying presents for their friends.

‘You have to have that one. And the blue one, and the pink one.’