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minging Kilburn toilet. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’m coming.’ And even if she was taken aback by Lisa’s transformation, they were all grown women, right? So she’d leave all that she’s-prettier-than-me stuff back in the school playground where it belonged, wouldn’t she? Right.
    The plan for the day had already been discussed. Forget the West End or Oxford Street for grown-up shopping. If they were going to have a proper reunion, they needed a Saturday afternoon at Camden Market. Back in the old days, the three of them had made regular weekend pilgrimages there for cut-price clubby outfits, bargain boots and all sorts of tat to adorn the grotty flats. It had also been a favourite place for a mid-afternoon pint, which had often stretched well into a drunken evening.
    Where else could they possibly head this afternoon than Camden Town? It would be an essential nostalgia trip, an excellent starting point for the weekend. ‘And if we get there and realize that everything in the market is hippy crap that we wouldn’t be seen dead in these days, we can always go somewhere else,’ Lisa said as they left the station and headed around the corner towards a bus stop.
    Nell grinned. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a bit of hippy crap,’ she said. ‘Don’t knock it, Lise. Hippy crap has served me well through the years.’
    Josie definitely fancied Camden over any grown-up shops Lisa might have been thinking of too. She’d had enough of swanky boutiques for skinny people yesterday, thank you very much. ‘Anyway, we can always go for a . . . drink, if we have to,’ she said. She’d been on the verge of saying ‘a cup of tea’, but had bitten back the words just in time. Although she never usually touched the booze until the boys were in bed (not unless it was a really, really trying tea-time, anyway), she was quite sure Nell and Lisa had no such rules.
    ‘Well, I suppose so, if we’re forced to go to the pub, at gunpoint or something . . .’ Lisa said.
    ‘Or if someone threatens to poke us in the eye with joss sticks,’ Nell giggled.
    ‘Here,’ Lisa said, pulling up by a bus stop. ‘This is our one.’
    ‘So,’ Nell said conversationally as they waited with a couple of acne-scarred Goths and a smooching couple, ‘how did you do it, Lise? How did you lose all that weight?’
    ‘Well, believe it or not, it wasn’t through the sleep diet or the puke diet,’ Lisa replied, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she grinned.
    ‘Oh God! The puke diet! I’d forgotten that,’ Josie laughed. ‘Eat whatever you feel like, knowing you’ll get so lashed later you’ll puke it all up anyway.’ She winced at the memory. ‘We were so gross, weren’t we?’
    ‘The sleep diet was a good one, though,’ Nell reminded her. ‘Stay in bed all day so that you don’t consume any calories . . .’
    ‘Even if does mean you lose your job, remember, Nell?’ Lisa pointed out, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
    ‘Oh yeah,’ Nell nodded. ‘I knew there was a downside. No calorific gain, but lots of financial pain.’ She shrugged. ‘Still, it was a crap job anyway, so . . .’
    ‘But forget our tragic diets,’ Josie interrupted, turning to Lisa. ‘How did you do it? I feel blobby just looking at you.’
    ‘Spinning,’ Lisa replied, pulling a face. ‘And stress. Too much work. Lots of shagging. Being too lazy to buy food . . .’
    ‘What’s spinning?’ Josie asked.
    ‘Shagging who?’ Nell chimed in.
    ‘Spinning is basically torture in Lycra,’ Lisa replied with a grim expression on her face. ‘Spinning is like gym hell.’
    ‘God,’ Josie replied, none the wiser. She couldn’t help eyeing up Lisa’s slim flanks as she leaned forward to flag down the bus. ‘Well, whatever kind of torture it is, it works. In fact, I’m going to book myself in for some as soon as I get back home. I need to be tortured at once!
    ‘And the shagging?’ Nell prompted. ‘And please don’t reply, “Heaven in