“That makes me sound annoying,” said Ellen. She was hurt. It was like she had overheard a conversation that revealed what her friends really thought of her.

Julia and Madeline were too busy liking each other for the first time to notice.

“Oh, not that annoying. Anyway, me first,” said Julia. “The wife’s family?”

“Maybe we should just concentrate on eating quickly and efficiently,” said Ellen, as a waiter appeared at their table with three giant plates balanced on his forearm.

“Let’s skip the movie,” said Madeline. “Let’s just relax.”

“Excellent idea.” Julia settled back in the booth and smiled at Madeline.

Watching them talking to the waiter, confirming what each dish was, leaning back politely to let him spoon out their rice, Ellen saw for the first time that the two of them were actually quite similar. Their carefully relaxed demeanors hid a fragile defensiveness, as if they expected to be criticized at any moment and they weren’t going to stand for it. They both seemed to cling so hard to their chosen personalities. I am this sort of person and therefore I believe this, I think this, I do this and I am right, I’m right, I’m sure I’m right!

Although, then again, maybe everybody did that to some extent. Perhaps all grown-ups were just children carefully putting on their grown-up disguises each day and then acting accordingly. Perhaps it was a necessary part of being a grown-up. Or perhaps it was just that Ellen felt herself to have a more nebulous, less defined sort of personality than both Madeline and Julia.

Or perhaps this was all a load of rubbish, and Madeline and Julia were just being themselves. Lately, Ellen was becoming increasingly impatient with the way she never just accepted anything at face value. She couldn’t quite understand her impatience. It was like she’d suddenly turned against a dear old friend for no good reason.

“It must have been so awkward,” said Madeline. “Meeting Patrick’s old in-laws.”

“Do you think they hated you?” asked Julia. “Replacing their beloved daughter?”

“They were lovely,” said Ellen. “They seemed perfectly relaxed about it, but I made a fool of myself.”

“Oh, no,” said Julia, as though Ellen was in the habit of making a fool of herself. “What did you do?”

“I saw a photo on the wall of Colleen holding Jack when he was a baby and I—”

“You criticized her?” said Julia. “You spoke ill of the dead!”

Julia was terrified of death. Whenever she was confronted with it, she became skittish and weird, as if she could somehow ward it off.

“Does that sound like something I’d do?” said Ellen, as she lifted her spoon to her mouth.

“Shellfish!” screeched Madeline, and knocked the spoon from Ellen’s mouth.

“It’s not!” Ellen indicated the plate in front of her. “It’s the chicken.”

“Oh, sorry, you’re right,” said Madeline. “Carry on.”

“Anyway, I think this whole thing with what you can and can’t eat when you’re pregnant has gone too far,” said Ellen. “The French still eat soft cheeses and drink wine, the Japanese still eat sushi—and their babies are all fine.”

Madeline pursed her lips, as if she wasn’t quite convinced about the quality of French and Japanese babies. “I wouldn’t be taking any risks in the first trimester.”

Julia’s face closed down slightly at the pregnancy talk. “So what did you do when you saw the photo?”

“I cried,” said Ellen.

“You cried? You didn’t even know the girl!” Madeline put down her fork, as though she’d just tasted something disgusting; she was clearly mortified on Ellen’s behalf.

“Why would you cry?” asked Julia with interest.

“Pregnancy hormones,” said Madeline wisely. “Although you can’t spend the next six months behaving like that! Couldn’t you, I don’t know, hypnotize yourself or something?”

It was clear just how seriously Madeline was taking this that she’d suggest self-hypnosis. Ellen knew that Madeline thought hypnotherapy was a load of new age nonsense, a waste of people’s time and money, quackery, plain silly, misguided but well meaning; she didn’t know which actual phrases Madeline would use, but she knew from the carefully polite blank expression that crossed Madeline’s face whenever Ellen’s career came up that it would be something along those lines. Ellen had never pushed because she knew Madeline would lie to be polite, and she’d lie badly, and Ellen didn’t see the need to make her uncomfortable. She knew that Madeline was fond of her, and that she would never want to hurt Ellen’s feelings.

Up until now, Ellen hadn’t minded the lack of balance in their conversation. In fact, she’d enjoyed a slightly superior feeling about her maturity in the face of Madeline’s prejudice. Her sense of self-worth didn’t rely on other people’s approval. But now she felt a powerful surge of resentment. Her work was important to her. It was a huge part of her life. Why hadn’t Madeline at least tried to learn more about hypnotherapy? She’d never even asked a single question about her work! What was that about? It was disrespectful. In fact, it was infuriating.

“Have I got something in my teeth?” asked Madeline, flustered. She turned to the mirrored wall. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Ellen cleared her throat. It would not be appropriate to suddenly shriek, “Why have we never talked about my job, Madeline?”