This fact dawns on me as she giggles at me through a haze of dry ice while we sit by the bar in Camp and Furnace. The venue is the size of an aircraft hangar, and, courtesy of the DJ, neon lights and street food, has a kind of festival vibe – except it’s indoors. ‘What is it?’ I ask, bemused. ‘You’re a bit tipsy.’ She smiles. ‘Whatever makes you say—’ I hiccup. ‘When did you last have a night out, Hannah?’ ‘It must’ve been two months ago, just before James left. I hardly ever have a drink at Suzy’s,’ I continue. ‘I can’t bring myself to do anything post-nine-p.m. except collapse in bed. I don’t even want to think about what’s in store tomorrow, given that I’ve got to do the school run.’ ‘Oh, don’t worry about that now,’ she says, waving her hands about dismissively. ‘Thursday’s the new Friday. Besides, I’m at a wedding in Glasgow this weekend so this was what we were stuck with.’ I take a sip of my Martini, which is merrily blotting out all thoughts of James the faster it goes down.
