Nick had kissed her for the first time up against the car after they’d just seen Lethal Weapon 3 at the movies. He tasted of popcorn, with a hint of chocolate. He was wearing a black jumper over a white T-shirt and jeans, and he was a bit stubbly under his lower lip and even as he was kissing her, she was already carefully saving it up as a memory, knowing that she’d be sitting at her computer screen the next day, reliving it. She’d pulled it out and replayed it like an old movie so many times. She had described it in minute detail to her friend Sophie, who had been in a relationship for five years and had therefore moaned with jealousy, even though Jack was the love of her life.

Sophie. Her oldest friend. Bridesmaid at her wedding.

She would ring Sophie right now. There was no way she hadn’t called Sophie and told her about the horror of that kiss in the laundry. First she would have called Elisabeth. Then Sophie. She would have skewed the story for each of them. For Elisabeth she would have concentrated on her own feelings. “How could he do that to me?” she would have asked and her voice would have quivered. For Sophie she would have spun out the story for maximum shock: “So I walked into the laundry to get some champagne and you will never in a million years guess what I saw. Go on, guess.” From Elisabeth she would have got sympathy and very clear instructions on what to do next. From Sophie she would have got shock and fury and an invitation to go out right now and get very drunk.

She found her address book and Sophie’s mobile number. It seemed that Sophie was living in Dee Why. The northern beaches. Good for her. She’d always wanted to live by the beach, but Jack preferred to live close to the city. She must have won out in the end. They must be married with children by now, although of course Alice had to remember not to take that for granted. She hoped Sophie hadn’t had fertility problems like Elisabeth. Or she and Jack could have broken up? No. Not possible.

“Sophie Drew.”

Goodness. Everyone had become so professional and grown-up.

“Sophie, hi, it’s me, Alice.”

There was a slight pause. “Oh, hi, Alice. How are you?”

“Well, you’re not going to believe what happened to me,” said Alice, and she realized she was feeling strangely silly. Almost nervous. Why? It was only Sophie.

There was another pause. “What happened to you?”

There was something not quite right. Sophie’s voice was too polite. Alice wanted to cry. Oh, for heaven’s sake, I can’t have lost you as well, can I? Who do I talk to?

She didn’t bother spinning out the story. She said, “I had an accident. Hit my head. I’ve lost my memory.”

This time there was an even longer pause. Then she heard Sophie say to someone in the background, “I won’t be long. Just tell them to hold on.”

Her voice came back. Louder. Maybe a touch impatient. “Sorry, Alice. So, umm, you had an accident?”

“Are we still friends?” said Alice desperately. “We are still friends, aren’t we, Soph?”

“Of course we are,” said Sophie immediately, warmly, except now her voice had an undercurrent of “Something weird is going on here. Must tread carefully!”

“It’s just that my last proper memory is of being pregnant with Madison. And now I find I’ve got three children, and Nick and I aren’t together anymore, and I can’t work out why, and Elisabeth—”

“No, no, not that one! The green one!” Sophie spoke sharply. “Sorry. I’m in the middle of a shoot for the new line. It’s a madhouse around here.”

“Oh. What do you do?”

Another pause. “Does that look green to you? Because it sure doesn’t look green to me. Alice, I’m sorry, but can I call you back?”

“Oh. Sure.”

“Look. I know we keep saying it but we must catch up!”

“Okay.” So they weren’t friends anymore. Not proper friends. They were “must catch up” friends.

“I mean, the last time I saw you was when we had that drinks thing with that friend of yours. The neighbor? Gina. How’s she?”

Gina, Gina, Gina. It occurred to Alice that she wouldn’t have called Elisabeth or Sophie about the kiss in the laundry. She would have called Gina.

“She’s dead.”

“Sorry, she’s what? Green! Green! Are you color-blind? Look, Alice, I’ve got to go. I’ll call! Soon!”

“Just tell me one thing,” said Alice, but the phone was beeping at her. Sophie had gone.

Just like everyone, it seemed.

The phone rang in her hand and Alice jumped as if it had come alive.

“Hello?”

“Oh, you sound much better.” It was her mother. Alice relaxed. Barb might now be the salsa-dancing, cle**age-baring wife of Roger, but she was still her mother.

“I’ve just been speaking to Sophie,” said Alice.

“Oh, that’s nice. She’s so famous these days, isn’t she? After that article? I was just talking to someone about her the other day. Who was it? Oh, I know! It was the lady who comes to do Roger’s feet. The chiropractor. No, no, that’s not it. The podiatrist. She said her daughter wanted one of those ‘Sophie Drew’ handbags for her birthday. I said, well, I’ve known Sophie since she was eleven years old, and I was nearly going to offer to try and get a discount for her, because it has to be said, Roger has awful hairy feet, so I do feel a bit sorry for her, but then I thought, you and Sophie don’t really see much of each other these days, do you? Just Christmas cards, isn’t it? So I changed the subject quick smart in case she asked, because she’s that sort of person, I think, who likes to try and use connections to get bargains. Gina was a bit like that, wasn’t she? Not that there’s anything wrong with it, I guess. It’s quite a clever way to live your life really, oh dear, what an absolute tragedy, it really is, anyway, what made me think of Gina? Oh yes, ah, connections. Anyway, I’ve got three reasons why I rang, I’ve actually written them down, my memory is just shocking these days—now speaking of which, how are you, darling?”