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“No, but it does mean you’re being a stick in the mud. Relax, have another drink. Norris is off tomorrow, so we can skive off a little.”

One glass of wine was more than enough. The tell-tale signs of Lydia’s impending misery were upon her. Halfway through her shift, a dull ache formed at the base of her spine. Lower back pain was horrendous, and also a warning of what was to come. Lydia wouldn’t be surprised to find herself in the bathroom this evening feeling rotten.

As if back pain wasn’t bad enough, Lydia’s body liked to throw cramps at her in the middle of the night, usually, meaning she got little sleep. “One is enough, Cathy.”

“You never let yourself go. Just once, I’d like to see you let your hair down.” Cathy was letting her hair down enough for the both of them.

“I don’t need alcohol to enjoy myself.” Not a complete lie.

“I just think—” Lydia had enough. Why did she always have to explain herself? Maybe if I opened up a little more, Cathy would understand.

“Look, I don’t drink for medical reasons.” Lydia reeled off the vast list of problems she faced every month. Cathy sat, looking shocked at Lydia’s sudden need to unload on her. Usually that would have Lydia’s guilt-o-metre spiking, but since she felt the comfort of having support from Halle, Lydia wanted more.

“Christ, why didn’t you ever tell me?” Cathy looked affronted at being kept in the dark.

“I didn’t want to dump my issues on you.”

“But we’re friends. Well, I thought we were.”

“Of course we are.”

“Friends lean on each other, Lydia. I tell you everything about me.”

That was true. Cathy wasn’t shy about airing her dirty laundry in the slightest. “You know now. Please don’t be mad at me, Cath.”

“Those times I thought you were hungover. You weren’t, were you?”

Several times Lydia had dragged herself to work, even though all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball with Monty and a pile of pain meds. When Cathy had seen her in that state, she’d assumed Lydia had been out partying. The pale skin, sunken and bloodshot eyes. Sometimes sweating. It added up to a monstrous hangover, and Lydia hadn’t corrected Cathy’s assessment.

“No, I wasn’t hungover.”

“Jesus, is that what it’s like every month?” Lydia nodded and took a sip of her wine. “But you’re getting help now?”

“Hopefully.”

“I’m still a little miffed you didn’t tell me.”

“Sometimes, Cathy, I just want to forget about it. Working with you, even Harrison, helps take my mind off it. I feel like all I do is worry and think about the next month and how bad it’s going to be. I’ve not had a break from it for three years.”

“Okay; we don’t need to talk about it, only when you want to okay. But Hun, if you’re suffering at work, let me know. We’ve got each other’s back, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay, drink up. I’ll call a taxi. Like you said, early start tomorrow.”

Being a weeknight, Cathy found a taxi quickly. Thank God, because Lydia’s nipples were going to freeze off if she had to stand outside much longer.

Monty greeted Lydia with an excited zoom around the sofa. After five minutes of rough-housing, Lydia let him outside to do his nightly business. Her work attire for the next day was ready, all she had to do before falling into bed was make a quick wholewheat pasta salad. Eating at the museum hiked up her monthly outgoings unnecessarily.

With Monty snoring in his basket at the bottom of the bed, Lydia showered and got ready to sleep. Just as she settled under the duvet, a wave of heat rolled over her body. “No, not tonight, please!” she begged. A change in body temperature meant only one thing. Lydia would definitely start her period this evening.

At least my mood will improve soon. Yes, her melancholy would disappear, but the rest was still going to be shit. Popping out of bed, Lydia took her pain meds from the bathroom cabinet and placed them on her bedside table. She wandered back into the kitchen, switching on the kettle, ready to make herself a hot water bottle. Preparation was key.

Sleep came quickly. The excitement of the day finally caught up to her. However, it didn’t last long. Lydia was stirred from a very pleasant dream of a tall copper-skinned beauty by dull pain radiating from her abdomen. Groaning, she rolled over, popped two extra strength painkillers from their packets and grabbed the water bottle waiting patiently at the side of her bed. Curling into the foetal position, Lydia pressed the bottle hard to her body. I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.

The saliva swarming her mouth indicated; she was, in fact, not okay. Running to the bathroom, Lydia positioned herself on the toilet with her head in her trusty sick bucket. A violent cramp surged through her body, causing her stomach contents to rise in her throat. Sweat beaded above her lip and brow.

The painkillers will kick in soon. I’m okay.