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Within seconds, glasses of red wine are shoved into our hands along with menus. Plates of dough balls, olives, assorted dips and breadsticks are plonked down for us. My eyes are on stalks. It looks amazing.

Now, I know I’ve told these two that I’m not at all hungry and that I detest garlic and that I am staunchly vegan now, so I’m not remotely surprised to see my sister and Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen trade glances when I order a cheesy garlic bread starter and spicy wedges, and I am also not surprised to see my sister stifle a giggle when catching sight of me wolfing down an enormous pepperoni pizza, half the size of the table itself, even though I’ve declared meat-eaters to be contributing to the end of the world’s eco-system. I give them a withering look. ‘What? I’m on a temporary vegan pause. For spiritual reasons.’

And when three hot chocolate fudge cakes with homemade vanilla ice-cream are plonked down afterwards, I ignore their wide-eyed stare and dive straight in. I can barely move as I listen to Ava, who appears to be on a break from taking pictures of the food instead of eating it, asking ‘MJ’ all about her life here in Spain.

Turns out I barely know this girl. Shame on me. As another bottle of red wine is opened and poured for us, I notice Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen looking shyly at the waiter. My sister notices this tiny giveaway too. The waiter, however, does not notice and barely looks in her direction. Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen’s face deflates for a split second before she recovers herself.

‘Who’s the hot waiter guy?’ Ava asks instantly. We watch as Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen feigns ignorance, shrugging her shoulders as she looks away from him.

‘Here, have a confidence drink,’ says Ava, topping up her glass, ‘and watch this.’

Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen and I are treated to a masterclass in flirting as Ava calls the waiter over, orders some water and deftly pumps him for information. In less than two minutes, we learn his name (Alejandro), how often he works out (too often), what his views on feminism are (he likes it), his Instagram handle and, most importantly, that he is single and available next weekend.

‘This is my sister, Nelly-Belly, and you must know MJ already? She’s like the owner of this restaurant. It’s named after her.’

Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen’s cheeks flame instantly as the handsome waiter says of course he knows her. He gives her a lingering smile. She immediately protests that she is definitely not the owner of the restaurant and starts to release that strange hissing sound again, her lips curled into an awkward smile. It’s certainly a unique laugh, I’ll give her that.

Alejandro rushes off to get our water.

‘Well done,’ I say to her. ‘He’s very cute and totally into you.’

Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen’s beams as she protests that Alejandro is nice to everyone and probably wouldn’t look twice at a girl like her. A former vampire, she must mean.

‘You’re a beautiful, strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man to complete her,’ I trot out. You just need a regular supply of fresh blood and a nearby empty coffin to lie down in.

‘But if you fancy a snog then Alejandro would definitely be up for it. I can sense these things,’ Ava boasts.

My mind instantly pictures Dan and Ava clinking drinks and flirting at work. All behind my back. Men can be so weak and pathetic. Except Oliver. He seems to be a decent sort.

Ava glances over to a group of lads on a nearby table who are eyeing her up. She waves back, raising her glass to them.

‘Won’t Dan get jealous of you flirting with other guys?’ A dig that I simply can’t resist.

‘Dan?’ Ava turns to me, all confused. ‘Dan who?’

‘My boyfriend that you stole,’ I remind her, ‘from work?’

Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen follows what we are saying, and looks horrified at Ava.

‘Yes, MJ. It’s true,’ I say slurring slightly. ‘Meet my cheating, job-stealing, computer-hacking sister traitor.’ It’s an enormous surprise at how not bothered I feel all of a sudden.

‘Oh, Dan?’ Ava hiccups loudly, ignoring what I just said. ‘Yes, of course. Total dickhead.’ She turns to Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen, drink spilling out of the glass as she waves her arm about. ‘He was no good for my sister. I had to sack him. He’s a cheater. Him an’ Pippa.’

Oh my fucking God.

‘What?’ I croak. ‘Seriously? He was cheating with Pippa? Not you?’

Pippa and Dan?

Dan and Pippa?

I trusted them both. Pippa was supposed to be my friend. She never had a good word to say about Dan. I would never have suspected her in a million years.

A huge lump forms in my throat. Was I wrong about everything?

Surely not.

‘But I thought you and he…’ Oh my word, what if I was wrong?