It’s all so dazzling, neither of us can quite speak. Suze takes off her old brown cowboy boots, which she got in Covent Garden, and slips on a pair of pink and white boots from the rack. With her blue jeans and blond hair they look amazing.

“Or look at these.” I grab her a pale-tan pair with delicate rhinestones tracing a pattern up the sides.

“They’re beautiful.” Suze practically swoons in lust.

“Or these!” I’ve found a dramatic pair of black-and-dark-brown leather boots, which smell all rich and dark and saddley. “For winter?”

It’s like gorging on chocolates. Every pair is more alluring and delicious. For about twenty minutes I do nothing but chuck boots at Suze and watch as she models them. Her legs look endless and she keeps swishing her hair around and saying, “I wish I had Caramel here.”

(Caramel is her latest horse. And I have to say, I’m very glad she doesn’t have him here, if she’s thinking of riding in a rodeo.)

At last she’s narrowed it down to the tan boots with rhinestones and a black pair with amazing white embroidery. I bet she buys both.

“Hang on.” Her chin suddenly jerks up. “Bex, what about you? Why aren’t you trying any on?”

“Oh,” I say, caught out. “Actually, I don’t really feel like it.”

“Don’t feel like it?” Suze stares at me, puzzled. “What, trying on boots?”

“Yes. I suppose.”

“Not at all?”

“Well…no.” I gesture at the boots. “But you carry on.”

“I don’t want to carry on.” Suze seems a bit crestfallen. “I wanted to buy us both a pair of boots. You know, to make up. To be friends again. But if you don’t want to—”

“No, I do! That would be lovely,” I say hastily.

I can’t hurt Suze. But I’m feeling that same weird, twisting-in-my-stomach feeling as before. Trying to ignore it, I take a pair of boots off the nearest rack and Suze hands me some socks.

“These are nice.” I slip them on. They’re brown with a black laser-cut design and fit me perfectly. “Good size too. There we are. Done.” I try to smile.

Suze stands in her socks, holding two pairs of boots in her hands, her eyes narrowed.

“That’s it?”

“Er…yes.”

“Aren’t you going to try any more on?”

“Well…” I run my eyes over the boots, trying to feel like I used to. Boots! I tell myself. Suze wants to buy me some cool boots! Yay!

But it all feels false to my own ears. When it’s Suze trying them on, I get all excited for her—but when it’s me, somehow it’s different. To show willing, I quickly pull down a turquoise pair and slide my feet inside. “These are nice too.”

“Nice?”

“I mean…” I cast around for the right word. “Gorgeous. They’re gorgeous.” I nod, trying to look enthusiastic.

“Bex, stop it!” says Suze in distress. “Be normal! Be excited!”

“I am excited!” I retort—but even I can tell I’m not convincing.

“What’s happened to you?” Suze gazes at me, her face pink with agitation.

“Nothing!”

“It has! You’ve gone strange! You’ve gone all—” She stops herself suddenly. “Wait. Are you in debt, Bex? Because I’m paying for this—”

“No, I’m not in debt, for once. Look…” I rub my face. “I’ve slightly gone off shopping. That’s all.”

“You’ve gone off shopping?” Suze drops both pairs of boots with a thud.

“Just a bit. You know. For myself. I mean, I love buying Minnie things, and Luke….Look, you buy yourself a pair of boots.” I smile at her. “I’ll get some another time.” I pick up the boots she dropped and proffer them. “They look fabulous.”

But Suze doesn’t move a muscle. She’s staring at me warily.

“Bex, what’s up?” she asks at last.

“Nothing,” I answer at once. “I just—you know. Everything’s been a bit stressy, I suppose….”

“You seem flat,” she says slowly. “I didn’t notice it before. I’ve been too wrapped up in—” She halts. “I wasn’t taking notice of you.”

“There’s nothing to take notice of. Look, Suze, I’m fine.”

There’s silence. Suze is still regarding me with that wary look. Then she comes over, grabs my arms, and stares into my face.

“OK, Bex, what do you want most of all in life right now? Not only things, but, like, experiences. A holiday. A job. An ambition—anything!”

“I…well…”

I try to summon up some kind of desire. But it’s weird. It’s like that place inside me is hollow.

“I just want…everyone to be healthy,” I say lamely. “World peace. You know. Usual stuff.”

“You’re not right.” Suze releases my arms. “I don’t know what’s up with you.”

“What, because I don’t want a pair of cowboy boots?”

“No! Because nothing’s driving you.” She peers at me in distress. “You’ve always had this…this energy. This engine. Where’s it gone? What are you enthusiastic about right now?”

I don’t say anything, but inside, something’s quailing. Last time I was enthusiastic about something, it nearly cost me all my relationships.

“Dunno.” I shrug, avoiding her eye.

“Think. What do you want? Bex, we’re being honest with each other.”

“Well,” I say, after a gigantic pause. “I suppose…”

“What? Bex, talk to me.”

“Well,” I say again, and give an awkward shrug. “I suppose most of all I’d like another baby one day. But it hasn’t happened. So. I mean, maybe it’ll never happen. But whatever.” I clear my throat. “You know. It’s no big deal.”

I raise my eyes to see Suze gazing at me, stricken.

“Bex, I didn’t realize. You’ve never said anything.”

“Well, I don’t go on about it.” I roll my eyes and take a few steps away. I don’t want any sympathy. In fact, I should never have mentioned it.

“Bex—”

“No.” I shake my head. “Stop it. Honestly. It’s all good.”

We walk on a little, neither speaking, into an adjoining tent, which is full of leather accessories laid out on tables.

“So…what are you guys going to do after this?” says Suze at last, as though she’s thinking this all through for the first time. “Is Luke going back to the UK?”

“Yes.” I nod. “When we’ve finished this trip, we’ll pack up and go back. I suppose I’ll try to get a job in England. Although I don’t know if I’ll find one. It’s pretty tough out there, you know.” I pick up a plaited leather belt, look at it blankly, and put it down again.

“I wish you’d made it as a Hollywood stylist,” says Suze wistfully, and I feel so shocked I actually lurch against the table.

“No, you don’t! You gave me a hard time about it!”

“I did at the time.” Suze chews her lip. “But I’d love to have seen your name on a cinema screen. I’d have been so proud.”

“Well. All that’s over.” I look away, my face set. It’s still quite painful to think about. “And I don’t have a job to go back to.”

“You can pick up your career in England. Easy!”

“Maybe.”

I walk over to another stall, away from her penetrating eyes. I don’t want Suze getting under my protective shell. I feel too sore inside. And I think she senses this, because when she comes over, all she says is, “D’you want one of these?”

She holds up the most hideous leather necklace, decorated with wine corks.

“No,” I say firmly.

“Thank God. Because that would worry me.”

Her eyes are dancing comically, and I can’t help giving a little smile. I’ve missed Suze. The old Suze. I miss the old us.

I mean, it’s wonderful being a grown-up wife and mother and all of it. It’s fulfilling. It’s joyful. But sometimes I’d love to be drunk on a Saturday night, watching Dirty Dancing and deciding to dye our hair blue.

“Suze, d’you remember when we were single, in our flat?” I say abruptly. “D’you remember when I tried to cook you curry? And neither of us was anywhere near getting married. Let alone having children.”

“Let alone committing adultery,” Suze puts in heavily.

“Don’t think about that! I was just wondering…is this what you thought married life would be like?”

“Dunno,” she says, after mulling it over for a while. “No, not really. What about you?”

“I thought it would be simpler,” I admit. “My mum and dad always made it seem so easy. You know, Sunday lunch, rounds of golf, glasses of sherry—everything was so calm and ordered and sensible. But now look at them. Look at us. It’s all so stressy.”

“You’re OK,” says Suze at once. “You and Luke are fine.”

“Well, you and Tarkie will be fine too,” I reply as robustly as I can. “I’m sure of it.”

“And what about us?” Suze’s face is uneasy. “Bex, I’ve been so mean to you.”

“No, you haven’t!” I say at once. “I mean…we’re…it’s—”

I break off, my face hot. I don’t know what to say. I know Suze is being all warm and lovely now—but what about when Alicia comes back? Will I be left out again?

“Friendships move on.” I try to sound bright. “Whatever.”

“Move on?” Suze sounds shocked.

“Well, you know,” I say awkwardly. “You’re better friends with Alicia now….”

“I’m not! Oh God…” Suze shuts her eyes, looking agonized. “I’ve been obnoxious. I just felt so guilty…but it came out wrong. It came out as being horrible.” Her blue eyes pop open. “Bex, Alicia’s not my best friend. She could never be my best friend. You are. At least…I hope you still are.” She comes to face me, head on, her eyes all anxious. “Aren’t you?”

My throat is tight as I stare back at her familiar face. I feel like a cord is being untied from my chest. Something that had been hurting for so long that I’d kind of got used to it is being released.

“Bex?” Suze tries again.

“If I phoned you up at three A.M….” My voice is suddenly small. “Would you answer?”