I leaned over to Heather and yelled into her hair. “Can we have a sleepover in your room? Stay up all night? Watching all of Pride and Prejudice or something?”

She eyed me curiously. “What about your friend?”

“She’s at Danny’s now. And she’s got a key to my room.”

We recruited Monique to join us as she said she felt sick. The rest wanted to stay ’til closing. “Set You Free” came on, just as we were threading our way through the dance floor, and everyone started jumping around as if they were on a sunset beach in Ibiza rather than a cramped darkened room that was a coffee shop during the day. I kept up my pretend fine-ness in the cab home. Grinned as we queued for a chip butty. Smiled as we agreed to take a ten-minute break to get into our pajamas, and get ready for the sleepover. Then, after I’d washed off my makeup and climbed into my nightclothes, I hummed to myself as I packed up Jessica’s things that were discarded all over my room. I zipped up her bag, then left it on the end of my bed for her to find later.

I didn’t speak to her again until the night she came to the book launch.

32

now.

I looked at Jessica’s tears falling, in disbelief still. Still not used to seeing her cry. I’d hardly taken in a word she’d said.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to make yourself the victim in this,” I said, stunned. “Literally, right at this moment.”

“Oh you can talk about being the fucking victim,” she spit back. So loud, that a mother pushing a toddler looked over at us and rushed by. My phone started vibrating in my pocket. Ben, I guessed. Trying to find out where I was, where Jessica was. Now he’d had time to figure out his lies. Or maybe he wouldn’t even bother. Maybe Jessica was about to tell me they were moving in together or something.

“What are you talking about?”

“Please, Fern. You only ever see things from your perspective. God knows why you think you’d make a good counselor, when you’re the most self-obsessed person in the world.”

“Excuse me?”

Jessica’s whole face was sour. I’d spewed out what I’d needed to, now, it seemed, it was her turn, no matter the circumstances. “Everything just happens to you, doesn’t it, Fern? You’re so obsessed with how life is so hard for you, you never think to consider what’s going on... Like, when we were younger, you had parents that loved you, friends, money. Money! Oh my God, so much fucking money. But, all you did was bitch and whinge about being sick, not having a boyfriend.”

“I tried to kill myself!”