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‘Because I was going to go out tonight and get knocked up,’ I say sarcastically.

‘Oh, God, imagine,’ Mum chimes in. ‘We can’t have another baby in this house. I’ve already got his soon-to-be two.’

I’m vaguely offended that, if I did have a baby, my mum wouldn’t want to look after it because Rory got in there first.

‘I’m trying to talk to your sister, Rory, please go home,’ Mum insists.

‘See you tomorrow,’ he says as he heads downstairs.

‘You didn’t give me the talk when I was a teen,’ I point out. ‘Please don’t do it now.’

‘Just, with you starting your life again, and being – what do the kids say? – on the rebound,’ she says.

‘Mum, I promise you, it’s not like that,’ I reassure her.

‘Woo, come on, girls, we’re going to get Lia some D tonight,’ Mel bellows as she and Angie join us in my bedroom – I can’t help but notice Mel is armed with bags.

Both of them are in their going out clothes already and, truly, I feel cold just looking at them. Perhaps I’ve gotten too comfortable, too cosy, because it’s been a long time since I thought about going on a night out in a weather-inappropriate outfit.

‘D for drinks, Mum,’ I reassure her, seeing the look on her face.

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ she says, unconvinced, as she makes her way to the door.

‘Lovely to see you, Mrs Porter,’ Mel says. ‘And Mr Porter – he let us in. He’s looking great, isn’t he?’

Oh, Mum likes the sound of that even less.

‘Yes, you too,’ she says.

The look on Mum’s face suggests she might think twice before reaching out to any of my friends – although it might be a bit late for that.

‘What are you guys doing here?’ I ask. ‘I thought I was meeting you at the Ghost?’

‘Well, I thought you were too polite to accept my makeover,’ Mel says. ‘So I’m here to give you the works.’

‘The works?’ I echo her words – except they sound far less enthusiastic, coming from me.

‘Yeah, I am going to make you look perfect,’ she announces. ‘You’re going to have snatched brows, long lashes, nails for days, and I guarantee you won’t have a single hair on your body growing any lower than your ears.’

Wow, I mean, that all sounds absolutely terrifying. I need to do, well, anything, to get out of ‘the works’ – I know!

‘That sounds great,’ I lie. ‘But I’m just so raring to go tonight, I can’t wait to get out there, so what about if you just paint my nails for now, and we do the works next time?’

‘You need a drink that badly?’ Angie says, one eyebrow raised.

Hey, if it gets me out of a group bikini wax, I’ll say anything.

‘I really do,’ I tell her. ‘It’s been a long week.’

‘Well, okay then,’ Mel says, sounding a little disappointed. ‘I guess we’ll just go for a super sexy shade of red, so the lads know you’re up for it.’

The day men start taking cues from something as subtle as a shade of nail polish, then I’ll be impressed. At the same time, I don’t think we need to give anyone the opportunity to read between the lines like that.

‘Fab,’ I reply.

Mel grabs a bottle of bright red polish from her bag.

‘I think I’ve got a lipstick to match it,’ she tells me. ‘Hopefully that will help.’