She laughed properly, having to put down her glass so she didn’t spill. “God, don’t. I worry about that with her, every day. Argh! I’m so angry. How dare he replace me with some fucking...teenager! And, you know what I hate most? He won’t leave her like he left me. Nope. Not even when she gets saggy and tired like I dared to. Respectable men like him only remarry once, to the younger one. They know if they do it again then people will whisper. God, it’s so clichéd, I hate him so fucking much! I hate them all so much!” She picked up her cushion and slammed it down onto her lap, while I could only look on. Not sure what words would make it better. Nothing she’d said was a lie. It was a tale as old as time, what Brendan was doing to her. And no girl grows up wanting to be Spurned First Wife, Catherine of Aragon vibes. But, though my heart was breaking for Jessica, there was a tiny part of me, which I wasn’t proud of at all, that was vaguely marveling at this moment. This unraveling. This true Jessica. And how painful it was for her to be replaced by a better model...when Jessica had always been the better model for so many other women... No, Fern, shut up. She’s your friend. Don’t even think it.

I kept pouring the wine, dashing to the Londis on the corner to buy another bottle. I messaged Ben to tell him I’d be home late, and I was sorry our evening was missed.

Ben: No worries. Poor Jessica. I hope she’s OK. Send her all my love xxx

I winced slightly at his use of the word “all,” then had to have another stiff word with myself. The night drew itself around us. We put on Tapestry and sang along. Jessica lit all her Jo Malone candles, bathing us in a sweet rich scent. My head turned to velvet, tongue to velvet. By the end of the second bottle, she was laughing again.

“You know what?” Jessica’s head lolled against her sofa cushion as she pointed at me.

“What?”

“I feel sorry for her. This... Isobel.”

“I feel sorry for her too.”

“But no, you don’t get it. The thing is...” she sat up slightly, raised her finger to her mouth and whispered the rest. “...Brendan was shit in bed. Totally shit.”

I raised both eyebrows. “Really?”

“Oh my God, YES. Literally he was, like, how do I put it? Half repressed Victorian, half porn star?”

I giggled. “That’s quite a combo.”