On and on she went. I was gobsmacked at how vicious she was about me. I sneaked a glance at Luke in the hope he’d be staring at Brigit, open-mouthed with astonishment and outrage at her accusations.

But to my horror he was nodding in agreement.

‘… the most selfish person you ever met… very worrying… hanging around with dodgy people who take drugs… never any money… owes money to everyone… passed out in the hallway… could have been raped or murdered…’

And on. As I listened to her twist and distort my life, presenting something ordinary and harmless as sick, I began to get angry. She wasn’t exactly squeaky-clean herself.

‘… I was afraid to go home… hoped she wouldn’t be there… extremely embarrassed by her… any time of the day or night… always off work… getting people to ring in sick…’

Suddenly I was shouting my head off. ‘And what about you?’ I howled. ‘Since when were you such a goody two-shoes? It’s only since you lickarsed your way into your new, think-you’re-great promotion that you’ve gone all uptight about drugs.’

‘Rachel, behave,’ Josephine ordered.

‘No, I won’t,’ I bawled. ‘I’m not going to sit here and listen to this… this kangaroo court condemn me, when I could tell you about some of the things that she’s done…’

‘Rachel,’ Josephine menaced, ‘shut up and at least have the manners to listen to someone who has come three thousand miles out of concern for you.’

I opened my mouth to say ‘Concern? HAH!’ But then I saw Luke’s face. The mixture of pity and disgust on it derailed my fury. I was so used to seeing him look at me with admiration that, briefly, I felt dizzy with confusion. Humiliated, I shut up.

Brigit looked shaken, but started again.

‘… mad paranoid… accusing me of flirting with Luke… more and more irrational… couldn’t talk to her… not just cocaine… big jars of Valium… joints… tequila… never wanted to do anything that didn’t involve drugs… stopped washing her hair… getting really thin… said she wasn’t…’

A long time later she stopped. She hung her head and looked so abject it was obviously a ploy. She and Luke had probably rehearsed it on the plane.

‘Happy now?’ I sneered, overflowing with bitterness and bile.

‘No,’ she wailed, and, to my surprise, burst into tears.

What’s she crying about? Surely that’s my prerogative?

Josephine said really gently ‘Can you tell the group why you’re so upset.’

‘I didn’t want to do this,’ she sobbed. ‘I don’t want to be mean. She was my best friend…’

Despite all the accusations she’d thrown at me, I suddenly got a lump in my throat.

‘I’m only doing this to help her get better,’ she cried. ‘I know I was angry and I felt like I hated her…’

That appalled me. Surely not? Brigit hate me? Brigit be angry with me? That couldn’t be right. Why would she do that? Because I’d taken some of her coke once in a while? She’d want to lighten up, she really would.

‘But that’s not why I’m doing this. I just want her to sort her life out and go back to the way she used to be…’

Brigit burst into tears again and Luke silently placed his hand over Brigit’s and gave her a firm grip.

As if they were a husband and wife whose child had meningitis and they were bravely waiting in the hospital corridor for news from the intensive care unit.

Nice touch, Luke, I thought scornfully.

I had to think scornful thoughts, because when I saw him holding another woman’s hand, it stopped it from hurting as much.

That should be my hand he’s holding, I thought miserably.

Thanks, no doubt, to the infusion of strength from Luke’s firm grip, Brigit recovered her aplomb and was able to answer the multitude of questions Josephine was itching to ask.

‘How long would you say Rachel’s drug-taking has been a problem?’

‘For a year at least,’ Brigit answered, sniffing and dabbing at her eyes. ‘It’s hard to say because we all drank a fair bit and took drugs in a social context. But by last summer she was way out of control.

‘… she kept saying she was sorry. Over and over again, it was the most over-used word in her vocabulary. Apart from “more”.’

There were a few sniggers at that. I reddened with anger.

‘… but she wouldn’t actually change her behaviour, showing she wasn’t sorry at all.

‘… and I hated being her keeper, having to keep her in line. I’m the same age as her, in fact she’s three months older than me, and I felt like I was her jailer or her parent. And she called me names, “killjoy” and “a miserable bitch”. Which I wasn’t.’

I was distracted from Brigit’s litany by Luke shifting around in his chair, trying to get comfortable. He slouched low, almost horizontal, his long, hard thighs wide apart.

I dragged my attention back to Brigit, it was less painful.

‘… I shouldn’t have had to be her disciplinarian, it doesn’t come naturally to me. And, as soon as she was forgiven for something, she just went out and did it again.

‘… being narky isn’t my way, I hated what she did to me, the way her behaviour changed me. I was always resentful. Or annoyed. I’m not like that, usually I’m very easygoing…’

I was alarmed to discover that for a minute I’d let myself get caught up in compassion for Brigit. I forgot, briefly, that it was me who was the baddy in Brigit’s tale of woe.

Then I reminded myself what was going on. Brigit was simply trying to rewrite history in the light of her new, responsible job. She wanted to distance herself from her old druggy life in case her employers got wind of it. This wasn’t about me, at all.

But the next thing she said, I nearly throttled her for. She said ‘… and she was horrible to Luke. She was ashamed of the way he looked because she thought he wasn’t trendy enough…’

What did she have to say that for? I panicked. Things were bad enough with me and Luke, without her adding fuel to the fire. Quickly, I looked at Luke, desperately hoping he hadn’t heard. But of course he had. Terrified, I attempted a protest. ‘That’s not at all true,’ I insisted.