The water arrives, and then the burgers, and we don’t talk for a while as we eat. Carrie picks up the burger and squashes it together as much as she can, opening her mouth and taking a huge bite. Sauce dribbles down her chin, and she wipes it away quickly with a napkin before taking another bite. She is devouring it, as if she hasn’t eaten for days – whereas I have removed the salad and the bacon, and have cut the burger in half, nibbling on it. I feel self-conscious as I eat, but Carrie is one of those people who just gets stuck in – and I think this says a lot about her.

‘Tell me about this ex then,’ she says, still chewing. ‘Did he dump you on the trip or before you left home? Come on, V, what’s your story?’

I lay the burger back on the plate and nibble on a couple of fries. ‘It was in Bangkok. He just dumped me. Just like that. No explanation. I didn’t bother to hang around.’

‘Fucksake, what a prick.’ She takes a long drink of water. She seems less pissed now that the food has started to soak up the alcohol. ‘Were you together long?’

I make a non-committal face and hope that she takes the hint.

‘I’ve been plagued by bad luck on this trip,’ I say, finishing the last of my cocktail. The waitress must be watching us, as she comes scurrying over to collect the glasses.

‘Two more?’ she says. ‘You enjoy the food?’

Carrie nods, and the waitress grins at us again, before disappearing off towards the kitchen.

‘Go on,’ she says. ‘I was feeling sorry for myself not being with Laura. Hearing about other folk’s travelling disasters is making me feel better.’

‘Well I’ve been away for a long time now. Nearly a year. Before Sam—’

‘That’s your Bangkok bastard?’

I laugh. ‘Yes. Well before him, there was Michael…’

‘Oh, don’t tell me, he was a bastard too? I’m starting to think they really are all the same. My ex was called Greg. I dumped him just before we left…’ She pauses, and takes an angry bite of her burger. ‘Someone sent me a message telling me he was cheating on me.’

‘Shit,’ I say. ‘Did you confront him?’

She laughs, but it’s humourless. ‘You could say that. Anyway. Old. Fucking. News.’

The waitress places two more drinks in front of us, and Carrie holds hers aloft.

‘Cheers,’ she says.

I tap my glass against hers and take a long, slow drink.

She didn’t give me a chance to tell her what happened to Michael, and the moment is gone – and that’s fine. It’s probably better she doesn’t know. For now, at least.