Nothing.

From the house came the gentle hum of polite chat, over one of Huw Kelly’s Perry Como albums.

And suddenly Romy giggled, then stuck out her little pink tongue and blew an extraordinarily long, triumphant raspberry.

All three tried to ignore it, but it was impossible. Judith cracked first, then Catrin, then Lana. The laughter quickly faded, but at least it’d broken some of the iceberg.

‘Look – see? Nothing’s happened, has it?’ said Catrin, exasperated. ‘Neither of you has died.’

Judith shrugged. Catrin was right, of course.

‘I want you to be civil to each other, that’s all. And I want to be able to invite you both to things from now on. Jude, what d’you say?’

‘Why you asking me first?’ Judith replied irritably.

‘Oh grow up,’ said Lana, infuriating Judith even more.

‘Me grow up? Me?’ she demanded. ‘You’re the one who can’t get over a stupid fling you had with Gareth nearly two decades ago.’

‘It was not a stupid fling. You were seeing him behind my back …’

‘I bloody wasn’t!’ Judith shouted. ‘And you – you pushed me when I was pregnant! If it wasn’t for you we’d—’

But Catrin interrupted her. ‘No, Jude. Now stop it. We all know that’s not true. Don’t we.’ It was a statement, not a question.

And Judith sighed, because once again, she knew Catrin was right.

It seemed an age ago that the doctors had explained it to them: told them there was no evidence to suggest that Judith’s fall had caused the miscarriage; no evidence to suggest that Lana should be blamed. They said it had been just one of those things. At the time, Catrin had seized upon this revelation as a way through for reconciliation, and with that in mind, she and Sol had suggested a quiet get-together at their student flat in Cardiff, inviting Lana along with Judith and Gareth, to see if they could mend the broken bridges. But Judith and Gareth had refused the invitation point blank. No matter how hard Catrin or Sol tried persuading them, they wanted nothing to do with Lana ever again, regardless of what the doctors or their friends told them.

It was etched on her brain now: this thing between herself and Lana. This schism. She’d taught herself to believe her own story about what had happened. And as well, the passage of time had gnawed away at the strong bonds that once held their friendship in place. Absence didn’t always make the heart grow fonder, she’d long since realized: it could just as easily make the heart shut down. She felt no more for Lana Lloyd these days than she did for the woman in the local dry cleaner’s. Their bond was dead. It had died long ago. And she was certain that Lana must feel the same way.

‘Yeah, well,’ she said. It was the nearest Judith could get to backing down.

‘Look,’ said Lana quietly. ‘I tried apologizing back then, over and over, and you and Gareth just ignored me.’