‘You didn’t muck about though, did you? Bloody hell, stop hitting me!’

Tess gave her one final shove and sat back. She had never felt such an overwhelming desire to hit someone before. She had certainly never given in to it. It seemed that all the niceties that made her a socially acceptable grown-up had been stripped away. Last week she was a school mum and a professional. Now she was having sex in hallways and hitting her cousin. What next?

She took a deep, shaky breath. In the heat of the moment, they called it. She had never realised just how hot the heat of the moment could get.

‘Anyway,’ said Felicity. ‘Will wants to work things out, and I’m leaving the country. So do whatever you want to do.’

‘Thanks,’ said Tess. ‘Thanks very much. Thanks for everything.’ She could feel the anger almost physically draining from her body, leaving her limp and detached.

There was silence for a moment.

‘He wants another baby,’ said Felicity.

‘Don’t tell me what he wants.’

‘He really wants another baby.’

‘And I suppose you would have liked to have given him one,’ said Tess.

Felicity’s eyes filled. ‘Yes. I’m sorry, but yes.’

‘For God’s sake, Felicity. Don’t make me feel bad for you. It’s not fair. Why did you have to fall in love with my husband? Why couldn’t you have fallen in love with someone else’s husband?’

‘We never really saw anyone else,’ Felicity laughed as the tears rolled down her face. She wiped the back of her hand across her nose.

That was true.

‘He doesn’t think he can ask you to go through another pregnancy because of how sick you got with Liam,’ said Felicity. ‘But it might not be as bad with a second pregnancy, right? Every pregnancy is different, isn’t it? You should have another baby.’

‘Do you really think we’re going to have a baby now and live happily ever after?’ said Tess. ‘A baby doesn’t fix a marriage. Not that I even knew my marriage needed fixing.’

‘I know, I just thought –’

‘It’s not really because of the sickness that I don’t want a baby,’ she said to Felicity. ‘It’s because of the people.’

‘The people?’

‘The other mothers, the teachers, the people. I didn’t realise that having a child was so social. You’re always talking to people.’

‘So what?’ Felicity looked mystified.

‘I have this disorder. I did a quiz in a magazine. I have –’ Tess lowered her voice. ‘I have social anxiety.’

‘You do not,’ said Felicity dismissively.

‘I do so! I did the quiz –’

‘You’re seriously diagnosing yourself based on some quiz in a magazine?’

‘It was Reader’s Digest, not Cosmopolitan. And it’s true! I can’t stand meeting new people. I get sick. I have heart palpitations. I can’t stand parties.’

‘Lots of people don’t like parties. Get over yourself.’

Tess was taken aback. She had expected hushed pity.

‘You’re shy,’ said Felicity. ‘You’re not one of those loud-mouthed extroverts. But people like you. People really like you. Haven’t you ever noticed that? I mean, God, Tess, how could you have had all those boyfriends if you were such a shy, nervy little thing? You had about thirty boyfriends before you were twenty-five.’

Tess rolled her eyes. ‘I did not.’

How could she explain to Felicity that her anxiety was like a strange mercurial little pet she was forced to look after? Sometimes it was quiet and pliable, other days it was crazy, running around in circles, yapping in her ear. Besides, dating was different. Dating had its own definite set of rules. She could do dating. A first date with a new man had never been a problem. (As long as he asked her out, of course. She never did the asking.) It was when the man asked her to meet his family and friends that her anxiety reared its freaky little head.

‘And by the way, if you really had “social anxiety”, why did you never tell me?’ said Felicity with total confidence that she knew everything there was to know about Tess.

‘I never had a name for it before,’ said Tess. ‘I never had words to describe this feeling until a few months ago.’ And because you were part of my cover identity. Because you and I pretended together that we didn’t care what other people thought of us, that we were superior to just about the whole world. If I’d admitted to you how I felt, I would have had to admit that not only did I care what other people thought, I cared far too much.

‘You know what, I walked into an aerobics class wearing a size twenty-two T-shirt.’ Felicity leaned forward and looked at her fiercely. ‘People couldn’t look at me. I saw one girl nudging her friend to check me out and then they both fell about laughing. I heard a guy say, “Watch out for the heifer.” Don’t you talk to me about social anxiety, Tess O’Leary.’

There was a banging on the door.

‘Mum! Felicity!’ shouted Liam. ‘Why have you locked the door? Let me in!’

‘Go away, Liam!’ called back Tess.

‘No! Have you made up yet?’

Tess and Felicity looked at each other. Felicity smiled faintly and Tess looked away.

Lucy’s voice came from the other end of the house. ‘Liam, come back here! I said to leave your mother alone!’ She was at a disadvantage on her crutches.

Felicity stood. ‘I have to go. My flight is at two o’clock. Mum and Dad are taking me to the airport. Mum is in a state. Dad isn’t speaking to me, apparently.’

‘You’re seriously leaving today?’ Tess looked up at her from the floor.

She thought briefly of the business: the clients she’d worked so hard to win over, the cash flow they’d tried so hard to maintain, fussing and fretting over the profit and loss like a delicate little plant, the ‘work in progress’ Excel spreadsheet they’d studied each morning. Was this the end for TWF Advertising? All those dreams. All that stationery.

‘Yes,’ said Felicity. ‘It’s what I should have done years ago.’

Tess stood as well. ‘I don’t forgive you.’

‘I know,’ said Felicity. ‘I don’t forgive me either.’