None of these people, these kids, would understand it, with their privileged lives and happy families. Eloise, Emily, Steph – could I tell any of them what has been going on? Would they even try to understand or care?

Tracey understands. She knows me – and yet she has been my friend for the least amount of time.

Jason sidles up to me while I’m watching Tracey from the other side of the pool.

“Hey, Helen. You look nice.”

“Thanks,” I say, although I don’t want to talk to him right now. Tracey is laughing at something the girl has said. I strain to hear too, but can’t make it out over the music.

“So do you want a drink?” Jason says. He blushes, looks at his feet, then back at me. I can smell his aftershave, heady and strong in my nose, like he’s bathed in it.

I hold up the bottle. “I’ve got one,” I say and walk away from him, over to where Tracey is.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I say.

“Good thanks. Do you know Julie? She’s in the netball team with me.”

I didn’t know Tracey played netball.

“Er, no, I don’t. Hi.” I give her a steely look, hoping she’ll get up and move, but she is oblivious, her eyes now on a boy in the pool with big blue eyes and spots on his chin.

“What to do you think about Thomas, Tracey?” she says and they resume their conversation. I feel dismissed, like I’m surplus to requirements.

I’m about to speak again, maybe try and manoeuvre myself into sitting with them, when I hear Eloise calling me. She is standing with her hands on her tiny hips, pushing her boobs out as much as possible. “Can we change this music please? It’s so lame. And is there more champagne?”

“Sure.” I walk away. Tracey and Julie continue their conversation. I see the boy with the Bambi eyes swim over to them. He leans onto the edge of the pool, his muscles flexed, starts chatting to them. I stop, watch them, annoyance rumbling in my throat, then walk away.

Jason tries to intercept me as I weave through bodies, but I ignore him again.

I go into the storeroom and lean against the wall, closing my eyes for a minute. I can hear Steph and Emily, their laughter like nails on a chalkboard, screeching through the thin walls. My head is spinning and I feel sick. There is a small changing room with a toilet at the other end of the pool house, but I can’t bring myself to walk that far, past everyone. But my stomach is lurching like the sea outside and I know I’m going to throw up soon. I grab a bottle of champagne, shove past the people standing just outside the storeroom and practically throw the bottle at El before charging for the changing room.