There was a small, horrible nugget of gladness in me. I wanted him to be so manky to her that she’d eventually have to give up on him. But I was ashamed of it.

At the three-hour mark she stood up and said ‘Right, I’m going round there.’

‘No, Brigit,’ I begged. ‘Please… your dignity… your self-respect… a pig… bay of pigs… not worth pissing on… what’s the point… sit down…’

Just then the bell rang. It was as if the entire apartment had exhaled with relief.

‘At the eleventh hour,’ Brigit murmured.

I decided not to mention we’d said goodbye to the eleventh hour some time ago and that we were now at the sixteenth or seventeenth hour.

A strange light appeared in Brigit’s eyes.

‘Watch this,’ she said, through a clenched jaw, and sauntered towards the entryphone. She picked it up and took a deep breath. And in the loudest voice I had ever heard she bellowed ‘FUCK OFF !’

Then she turned away and started to shake with laughter. ‘That’ll show him, the gouger.’

‘Can I’ve a go?’ I asked eagerly.

‘Be my guest.’ She was in fits.

‘Ahem.’ I cleared my throat. ‘OK, here goes. YEAH, FUCK OFF!’

Then the pair of us were in each other’s arms, crying with laughter.

The bell rang once more, long and shrill, knocking us into momentary silence.

‘Ignore it,’ I gasped.

‘I can’t,’ she snorted. Then we both exploded again.

She had to wait until she was able to speak before she picked up the phone and said ‘Come in, you fat, hairy pig,’ and pressed the ‘open’ button.

He looked wary and hurt. And well he might.

Because it was Daryl, not Carlos. Daryl! So dreams do come true.

It was hard to believe that he’d just walked over our threshold. In all honesty, I’d given him up for dead. He must have lost my phone number, I realized, but remembered the address from the night of the party. I was so happy I nearly went into spasm.

It was funny now that things had worked out, how silly my fears seemed.

‘Hey, Rebecca,’ he said vaguely.

‘Rachel,’ I corrected him, embarrassed.

‘No, Daryl,’ he said. ‘My name is Daryl.’

He didn’t seem to be as good-looking as I remembered him being on Saturday night, but I didn’t care. He had great clothes and knew Jay McInerney and my heart was set on him.

‘So, Rebecca,’ he said, not really focusing on me. ‘I’m loo…’

‘Sorry,’ I forced myself to say. ‘But my name is Rachel.’

Then I felt guilty, in case he thought I was criticizing him.

‘But it doesn’t matter,’ I added.

I nearly said ‘Call me Rebecca if you want.’

‘How come you guys told me to fuck off?’ he asked, and gave a deep sniff that explained the dancey, unfocused state of his eyes.

Brigit had been struck dumb with disappointment and disbelief, so I had to answer.

‘We thought you were somebody else…’

The bell rang again and Brigit became very animated, very quickly. She ran to the door, picked up the entryphone and started screeching an incoherent tirade, where only one in every ten words was audible. ‘FUCKERBAS-TARDLATEWANKBETTERTHINGSTODO FUCKERSHITHEADBURNINHELL,’

She finished by saying ‘Come in, you wanker,’ and pressed the button.

Then she seemed to notice Daryl properly. ‘MAMA Mia,’ she said darkly and gave a strange little laugh. ‘MAMA Mia. MAMA MAMA Mia. Har Har.’

I should never have told her about my time with Daryl, I realized fearfully. Now that she had gone bonkers, such knowledge could be very incendiary.

She stuck her thumb in her mouth and put her face very close – too close – to Daryl’s, before saying again, very meaningfully, ‘Mama’. She gave another odd, evil laugh and moved towards the door. All the better to beat the shit out of Carlos when he arrived.

So when Luke ambled in, two huge cartons of Ben & Jerry ice cream in his arms, Brigit looked as if she had died.

‘Howya, Brigit,’ he deadpanned. ‘The heat getting to you?’

She stared at him with hollow, shell-shocked eyes. ‘Luke,’ she mumbled. ‘Was that you who rang…?’

‘’Fraid so,’ he said. ‘What’s up? The Cuban gone AWOL again?’

She assented mutely.

‘Would you not give it up as a bad job and walk out with a nice Irish lad instead?’ he suggested.

She stared at him, her eyes two disused tunnels.

‘Would some ice cream make you feel any better?’ he asked kindly.

This is a man who knows women, I found myself thinking, even though I too had gone into shock at his unexpected arrival. Particularly his unexpected arrival with Daryl on the premises.

Brigit nodded jerkily and stretched out her hand. When Luke held out a tub of ice cream towards her, she hesitated, then quickly snatched it from him, like a child who was afraid it would be taken away. ‘All… for… mmme?’ she just about managed to ask. I’d seen her catatonic from disappointment before, but never so bad.

Luke nodded.

‘All for Brigit,’ she said thickly, her arm cradled around it.

Everyone watched her anxiously.

‘Good,’ she slurred. All for poor Brigit.’

In silence, we watched her attempt to walk.

‘Spoon,’ she mumbled, stumbling towards the kitchen. ‘Eat. Feel better.’

Then she lurched to a halt, ‘No, no need. Eat anyway. No spoon.’

All eyes were on her until she managed to reach her bedroom. When she slammed the door, Luke turned to me. ‘Rachel,’ he said, in a different voice from the one he’d been coaxing Brigit with.

It was a meaningful voice that made my stomach feel as if I’d already eaten some of the ice cream he’d brought for me. But I couldn’t savour the sensation because I was too aware of Daryl hovering and sniffing.

‘Ah, hello, Luke,’ I said, uncomfortably. ‘We weren’t expecting you.’

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished I hadn’t said them because they sounded unwelcoming. So I quickly said ‘But I’m delighted to see you.’ Then I wished I hadn’t said that because it sounded patronizing and false.