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I put the phone face down on the bedside table and decided, with the firmness of a man who has never once succeeded at this, that it had never happened.
It worked for about a week. Then Gemma rang.
“Christmas,” she said, without saying hello. “Mum wants a head count for the turkey. You’re coming, obviously. And Tess is coming, her parents are in Tenerife, so she’s having Christmas with us. Isn’t that nice?”
“So nice,” I said, in a voice like a squeaky hinge.
“Are you all right? You sound weird.”
“Just a cold.”
The weeks crawled past. I saw Tess’s name come up in the family group chat with a Christmas tree emoji and nearly dropped my phone into a pan of pasta. I rehearsed what I would say to her. Nothing felt right. Hi, Tess, great to see you again, I hope you’ve been well since you stood on my doormat with my escort fee.
On the twenty-third, Gemma rang again.
“Mum wants to know if you’re definitely coming. You’ve gone very quiet.”
I looked at the train ticket on my phone. I looked at my sofa, which was comfortable and had no sister’s best friend on it.
“Actually,” I started to say, “I’m not sure I can make it this year.”