Maybe I shouldn’t eat anything today. Lay off the laxatives, but keep away from food so that my stomach is as flat as possible. I should probably not take any pills today either. I took some when I got home yesterday, still shaking a little at the stunt Eloise pulled on Tina. But that’s Eloise all over. She has had plenty of moments like those over the years, taking things too far when exacting revenge on someone she thinks – rightly or wrongly – has offended her.

Yesterday was an overreaction and I probably should’ve stepped in and done something, said something, but I didn’t. Maybe my reactions were slow. Maybe I didn’t want trouble before tonight. Either way, deep down I know it was cowardly of me.

When everyone had dispersed yesterday, I went to check that Tina was ok. She was furious, wiping the dust from her knees with still trembling hands.

“Tina, are you ok?”

“I’m fine, no thanks to your friend.” Her hands swiped furiously at her legs. “She’s fucking dangerous,” she seethed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over her.”

Tracey looked at me with such disappointment that I wanted to wither away. “I’m sorry, really. I have to go.” I left, not looking back.

I have no idea if Tracey is still going to come to the party. I hope she does. I want to explain that I had nothing to do with what Eloise did.

I slip into the bath and think about the other day, talking to Tracey on the bench, the relief at letting out all that hurt, letting the words tumble into her lap while she let me cry. How nice it felt to have someone hold me, comfort me, listen to me. How strange and unfamiliar it was. I’m only just realising how much I crave that physical and emotional connection. You would think you wouldn’t miss what you’ve never had, but apparently you do.

*

Hours later, I stand in front of the mirror in my bikini. I am feeling empty. Hungry, certainly, and on edge. My stomach feels cavernous after very little food all day and my head is still full of cotton wool, but the dull ache has retreated a bit.

People will start arriving soon. I need to open the bottom gate. Everyone has strict instructions to come straight into the pool house and not bother Martha up at the house – mostly so that she doesn’t see how many people turn up. I hope it’s not a lot, but I can’t trust Eloise. She will have been burning up the phone lines with invitations all week.