‘I mean seriously, Larn, can you imagine that?’ said Jude, looking up from the letter.

‘I know!’

‘Anyway,’ continued Judith, ‘she knows we’re meeting for lunch and she wants us to call her at two thirty.’

‘There’s a phone by the door, I noticed. Let’s keep an eye on the time.’

The waiter then set down a cast-iron dish full of sizzling garlic prawns and handed them two forks.

‘Ooh, fabulous!’ said Judith.

‘Right. You next, Judith Harris,’ said Lana as she pronged a prawn and popped it into her mouth. ‘What’s it like? Are there any fit men on your corridor? Or sexy tutors, for that matter? Or are they all boring-as-fuck economists?’

Judith laughed at her friend’s outlandishness, and proceeded to tell her how much she was loving her life at the London School of Economics. How every minute had been bliss: her new room that still smelt of fresh paint, the communal kitchen on her corridor filled with smiling faces, continuous cooking, different accents and daft conversations; how at the Freshers’ Fayre she’d joined the Greek society and the swimming team, and on top of all that she had a timetable of fascinating subjects that she woke up every morning desperate to learn more about. It was as if she’d just discovered colour for the first time in her hitherto black-and-white life.

‘Oh Jude, I am so happy for you,’ said Lana softly, squeezing Judith’s hand. ‘You deserve this, mate.’

‘Yeah, I think I do,’ said Judith, and confided that she felt her place at LSE was some kind of reward. For being so tolerant of her dysfunctional home life. She’d heard nothing from either of her parents since arriving in London – but then why should she? George had quite happily disappeared off the face of the earth, or so it seemed. And Patricia had no interest in or knowledge of where her only daughter was now living.

Lana was bursting to tell Judith about life in Guildford. She told her she was living ‘in this wild house’ with an ‘amazing’ bunch of people – Linzi the African American Buddhist, who had ‘the voice of an angel’; Clint, who was from Merseyside and ‘like, has these really exciting ideas about politics – I love him!’; and Gerard, who was doing stage-management and could be a bit moody, but she respected his honesty. And then the course – well, the course was everything she’d ever dreamed about – she’d signed up for clowning skills, stage combat and Shakespeare sonnets on top of the main musical-theatre module, which was obviously her favourite.

‘We’re doing Guys and Dolls as the end-of-term show!’ Lana said, her eyes filled with excitement.

‘OK, hang on,’ teased Judith, ‘I think you’re mixing me up with someone who knows about musicals.’

‘It’s fantastic! And I’m playing Adelaide, who is, like, the best female part in it. And I want you and Cat to come and see it. First week of December. You will, won’t you?’