‘Anyway . . .’ her friend whispered. There was an awkward pause. ‘I just wanted to wish you a happy, happy birthday, Bessie, and I hope you’re doing something nice to celebrate?’

‘Actually, I’m going out for lunch with Mum and Dad.’

‘Oh smashing. Do you remember they used to love going to that grotty carvery on the London Road?’

‘I do.’ Bess closed her eyes and felt her face colour, wondering what lunch would be like where Michelle was. She pictured cocktails and sun-drenched terraces, comfortable loungers placed around crystal-clear pools and fancy kitchens, a bit like the ones she had always so admired in Knots Landing.

‘Well, half your luck. I’m playing tennis and quite frankly I could do without it today, it’s far too hot.’

Bess opened her mouth and did not know what to say – what was the correct thing to say to someone about to play tennis? Hope you win? Break a leg? She didn’t know anyone who played tennis or golf – apart from Lawrie and Michelle that was, the girl whose brothers used to sleep in a caravan on the driveway. Sitting on the stairs in Natalie’s old dressing gown, Bess thought of how their lives could not be more different, and those differences erased their past closeness and nullified their shared experience.

‘If you’re ever in Portugal, it would be so lovely to . . .’ Michelle went quiet and they both listened to the tick of awkwardness across the miles. What was she suggesting? Lunch? A catch-up? A game of mixed doubles? It all felt a little ridiculous in the face of thirty-odd years with no contact.

‘I’d better let you get on, Michelle.’

‘I hope it was okay to call?’

‘Of course it was, it was lovely.’ She meant it, crying now, cursing the crack in her voice and feeling a stab of loss at how their wonderful friendship had ended, so abruptly and so painfully. And knowing the call was coming to an end with so much left unsaid.

‘I always wondered . . .’ Michelle began hesitantly, coughing to clear her throat. ‘I always wondered what I’d done wrong. I still think about it sometimes, less now than I used to, but . . . We were so close, Bessie, and then just . . . nothing.’

She could tell that Michelle was crying too. Bess held the phone more tightly to her face.

‘It felt . . .’ she tried, closing her eyes and trying to find the right word, ‘. . . easier.’

‘Easier?’ Michelle’s voice broke and Bess could sense her distress across the miles. ‘God, well, I would hate to have experienced the tougher option. It wasn’t easier for me. It was like you’d died. I grieved for you, if that makes any sense.’