We’re interrupted by a cheerful, grey-haired elderly priest from the Orthodox Church wearing elaborate gold-embroidered-robes. He’s holding a bouquet of smouldering branches.

‘Blessings for prosperity?’ he asks Andreas, wafting burning leaves towards him.

‘Go ahead,’ Andreas tells him and opens the till.

The priest chants and cleanses the four corners of the coffee shop with smoke.

‘Hey, Father, bring your prosperity this way,’ Moss says and the priest obligingly waves the branches over us. Enveloped by smoke, we listen to him going through his rituals and after the final flourish, Andreas hands him a tip. Moss and I follow suit, then we thank him and watch him leave while I try to get the ash out of my cleavage.

‘I don’t know if it’s doing any good. It’s got very quiet in here since the last time he came,’ Andreas says thoughtfully. ‘Still, he has to make a living.’

‘If I say no, then what?’ Moss asks me, taking up the conversation from where we left off.

‘David and I’ll go halves.’

‘And if I come in, we split it three ways?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Ah. Now I understand.’ Moss holds out his large hand and shakes mine. ‘It’s a deal.’

Lucy comes down to mine this evening because she’s blagged a VIP ticket to a film premiere at the British Film Institute IMAX cinema in Waterloo and wants something incredible to wear.

‘I’m going with a guy who works for Universal Films. I’ll give you a shout out,’ she promises. ‘We’re talking red carpet, press, crowds …’

I’m hugely impressed. ‘Will you actually be on TV?’

‘Well, not officially,’ she admits. ‘I was thinking more of, you know, photobombing. One way or another, I’m getting my face out there.’

I drag my clothing rails from the utility room and tell her about the weekend. ‘You were right about the chopping board. Gigi wasn’t impressed.’

‘Of course she wasn’t! Whoever thought that would be a good idea for a gift?’

‘David did,’ I say.

‘And you did, too,’ she says accusingly. ‘Honestly. You two, you’re made for each other.’

This wonderful thought sends me into a daydream.

‘So, how did everything end with David and Gigi?’ she asks, pulling out a teal beaded lace dress with a flesh underskirt as iridescent as a peacock’s feathers.

‘See for yourself.’ I get out my phone and show her the photographs that I took.

‘Wow.’ Lucy scrolls through them. She taps a picture and looks at it closely. ‘Fern, he’s gorgeous!’

I screw up my nose. ‘I know.’

‘He shows just the right amount of teeth when he smiles. And he’s so neat I want to ruffle him all up,’ she growls. ‘She doesn’t look too happy though, does she?’