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‘Aminah, you are not someone who does things because youhaveto. Didn’t you cause anarchy in your boarding school because as head girl you called out the slave-owning links of the school’s founder?’

‘Yeah, and I only became head girl because my older sister was head girl, and if she was head girl I couldn’tnotbe head girl. She set the standard, and I had to follow.’

‘Well. You went to Whitewell and studied Marketing and Public Relations, instead of engineering, medicine or law, two of which your sisters chose to study. That wasn’t easy, Meenz. You carved your own path—’

Aminah released a strange, empty imitation of a laugh. My concern sharpened.

‘You know I wanted to go travelling? Before uni? I wanted to explore the world, and find myself. My parents told me that was a complete waste of time. I got into Cambridge–I told you that, right?–but Whitewell seemed like a better fit, more flexible, less stuffy, less. . . insular.So that was the compromise. I’d go to uni right away as long as it was Whitewell. And I loved it, and it was the best time and I would meet the most important people in my life.’

She looked at me then and smiled, a real one. ‘And I truly think I was meant to meet you then. And Kofi. And Chi and Shanti. You guys opened up my world, but, still, I kind of feel like I haven’t really been able to do anything on my own terms, you know?’

I tried to configure the information in my mind, matching it against her behaviour recently. Something was definitely askew and, just as I was about to interrogate it further, Aminah lifted her sunglasses, pushing out a bright smile.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything. . .I’m sorry. Shit, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. This,’ she gestured to the expanse before us, ‘is bliss. It’s bliss. I just sometimes feel the urge to run away. That’s normal, right?’

I froze. The worry spiked. I managed to school my face to calm as I tried to formulate an answer that wouldn’t freak her out.

‘Uh. I think. . .yeah, it’s normal to feel pressure. It’s a huge life change. I just think that maybe we should talk about the source of that urge—’

‘Smallie,’ Laide called out, from where she stood by our tour guide, one hand round his neck, the other round the neck of a tequila bottle she’d somehow smuggled onto the boat. ‘Kiki, can you guys stop snogging, please! Lubanzi has said he’ll do shots with us.’

Aminah’s face smoothed over and broke open in a laugh. ‘Coming!’ She turned to me, smile bright, and eyes not quite getting the memo. ‘Forget it. I’m just in my head. Watching my sister flirt with someone who I am very sure is gay will fix it. Did you know her first boyfriend was gay? I don’t know why she has a thing for unavailable men.’

‘Aminah, wait—’ She turned to me, teeth fixed in a grin.

‘I’m fine. I’m fine! Let’s drop it.’

So I dropped it, but now the look on her face has me wondering whether that was a good idea. We were pre-gaming when her mum called, ready to hit the evening leg of the festival, and I could feel Aminah’s mood slipping through her fingers. I rise from the cushy bouclé armchair I’m in, holding my flute of champagne, and pulling down my dress-code-adhering lilac co-ord mini-skirt and crop top.

‘You know what I think we need before we go out? An old school noughties and nineties sing-a-long. Who can sing an Ashanti song word for word? Do Lisa Left Eye’s verse on “U Know What’s Up” without blinking?’ I slip off my heels and clamber up on a cream pouf in the middle of the living space. ‘All of us, right? But who can sing the lyrics without tripping on a word? And I mean not even a stutter? Slightly more difficult, isn’t it?’

Shanti raises a brow. ‘Not really.’

I smile broadly. ‘Oh, I am so happy you said that, friend, because I think this poses a challenge. I’mma pick a song that youthinkyou know, and you gotta do it all, ad libs and everything. Or you have to pay penance with a shot.Orstreaking in the garden. The very same one with a low fence that faces the beach.’

For the first time since speaking to her mother, Aminah grins, eyes lighting up. Nothing like a little bit of schadenfreude to cheer my sister up.

‘Oh my gosh. I love that. I will not be partaking, but this is excellent entertainment. Like, I know I expressed my wish for no strippers–as well as penis straws, penis cakes and sashes that say “bride”– but Idoappreciate a little bit of nudity on my bachelorette. Be the stripper you want to see in the world!’

‘Nuh uh!’ Laide cries, holding a bowl of crisps up in protest. ‘Um, no fair. Both Aminah and Kiki can’t be allowed to sit out.’

I laugh in what I think is a gracious manner, involving lightly touching my chest, like a princess being asked why she doesn’t go to Costco. ‘Oh, friend, me being involved in the game is unfair. I have an encyclopaedic knowledge of this era—’

Aminah sips her champagne and shoots me a delicate smile. ‘I love you, sis, I do, but don’t you think that maybe this is a wonderful opportunity to prove it?’

I raise a brow and smirk. ‘You know what?’ I hop off the pouf. ‘Sure. In fact, I willenjoyputting you all to shame.’

‘That bikini wax isclean, sis. Who is your lady?’ Shanti asks, smiling entirely too widely. Truly, I can see all her professionally whitened teeth. She looks like a very gorgeous witch.

‘Oh, we share the same one. I’ll give you her number,’ Aminah says as she opens the bi-folding doors that lead to the lawn. I managed six whole rounds.Six.Chioma streaked once, easily, strolling into the garden and doing an interpretive dance to the sounds of the ocean. She asked us to record her doing it. Laide had just done it anyway, without participating in the game. I think she forgot what we were supposed to be doing. She was pounding back the champagne. Shanti hadn’t gone yet, which I found particularly annoying. I don’t know how this is happening to me, but I am standing here, in a full face of make-up, completely stark naked as my friends chant, ‘Don’t be scared! Just go bare! Have some fun and show your bum! Come on, Kiki! Get fucking litty and show your titties!’ and I’m both impressed and disturbed by how fast they were able to come up with a series of rhymes to encourage my nudity.

It was the ‘I Wanna Be Down’ remix that tripped me up. It had been going so well till I got halfway into Yo-Yo’s verse, which is such a shame because Queen Latifah’s verse is where I really shine. Still, I’m a good sport and Aminah seems light, free, and that’s all I ever want her to be so I remove my hand from where it’s covering the full extent of mine and Aminah’s waxer’s merciless and exact technique, and say, ‘You know what? Sometimes it’s good to show my imperfections. Gotta keep relatable somehow.’ And I sashay onto the lawn, hips swaying as I walk around the pool, twirl, a hand on my hip, while the girls blow wolf whistles, screech and I, for the first time in a long time, feel weightless. Free of tension, stress, doubt. I let the sounds of the ocean, the breeze wash over me, like an elemental purification.

This is me in my finest form. Then I hear the back door of the neighbouring villa open, and out tumble male voices, falling over each other, and I hightail it back to the house, laughing till I’m breathless, making it inside–I think–just before they see me.

The girls struggle to breathe, and Aminah’s eyes are watering with mirth. ‘Oh-oh my God, Keeks, that was amazing! Incredible!’

I bow deeply. ‘Thank you. I would like to thank my maternal grandmother for my fat ass, Don Julio for the confidence and my girls for the morale boost.’ I pull on my underwear and slip back into my outfit. ‘OK, now we have crossed several platonic boundaries,’ I say in between pants, ‘we have fifteen minutes before we have to call a cab so—’ As I’m speaking, the walls of the villa thunder with the sound of Giggs, ‘Talking The Hardest’. The girls and I look at each other, intrigued.