The boys come running up, chasing a blue football, and behind them is Gigi and a bald man with two Nikons around his neck.

‘Here she comes!’

Gigi’s wearing the Ossie Clark ‘traffic light’ dress with the plunging neckline and she puts on an exaggerated catwalk stride as she walks towards us. She stands right in front of David with one hand on her hip, the breeze wrapping it tight around her legs.

‘Like it?’

‘You look amazing.’ He puts his hands on her hips and smiles up at her, a true and loving smile. ‘Come and sit here.’ He makes a space for her and hands her a glass of prosecco. ‘Happy birthday.’

‘Cheers.’

She takes the Alice band out of her pink hair and runs her fingers through it. The sun makes it sparkle like angora.

The photographer takes his lens cap off and captures the moment.

Jenna passes her the menu. ‘Who knows what they want? No, don’t tell me until I find a pen. Anyone got a pen?’

Ben has a pen in his jacket.

‘I need something to write on.’

I’ve got my sunglasses on, listening to the conversation, feeling the warmth on my face. Although my dress is beautiful and airy, the halterneck top is feeling a bit sticky. I feel the tickle of an insect on my neck as I flick it away and look down and notice the flower print is dotted with greenfly. Huh?

I’ve left my insect repellent at the house. I’m practical that way.

‘You’re covered in greenfly,’ David says.

I look at him over my sunglasses. ‘I know.’ I should move away from the table to brush them off. It’s not cool to sit at a table sprinkled with insects. Again, I feel the opportunity to say something witty and sparkling come and go.

‘They think you’re a wild flower meadow,’ Gigi says suddenly.

‘Romantic!’ David replies.

It’s hugely endearing, the way they laugh at everything, and it’s heightened by the excitement, the anticipation of David’s grand gesture to come.

I sip my wine and when I next look down, the greenflies have all disappeared. Maybe they’ve come to some mutual understanding that despite appearances, my dress isn’t organic.

Ben begins to write down our order. How many for fish and chips? How many for tuna ciabatta? Thai prawns? Green salads? Sides of fries?

The food isn’t the main event; we eat quickly as if it’s something that needs to be got out of the way so that we can share in that big secret that’s been so badly kept and so enjoyed.

Plates cleared, a waiter comes out with a birthday cake dotted with flowers. Following him is the barman with champagne and glasses.