‘Gradually, then quickly,’ Phil said of her decline. ‘Like that ruddy Hemingway says a person loses their fortune, do you remember? Gradually, then quickly.’

the tea was spreading warmly through her insides like dye in water,

She was so thirsty her tongue kept sticking to the roof of her mouth.

Needles of rain were coming down at an angle

whispering in his ear until his temporary misery subsided.

As they settled into the darkness, she felt Brigitta reach for her hand. The large windows were open, and the breeze carried in the scent of gardenias. Laughter drifted in from a passing launch.

She finished the warm dregs of champagne in a glass within reach and fished out the bloated strawberry at the bottom. It fizzed softly in her mouth.

‘We are fucking crackers?’ Polly said, but her voice was warm and teasing, as if all the stress of her year had been dissolved in champagne

but seeing it for the first time in so long made her feel homesick for a different time.