‘Go on, give him a stroke. He’s lovely!’ Her voice goes all mushy. ‘Who’s a lovely boy then? Who’s a lovely boy?’

The shaggy brown creature on the end of the lead sweeps the dust with his tail and looks up at her with an expression of pure and loving innocence.

Me, I’m steering well clear.

She smirks at me, making it obvious she’s totally on the dog’s side.

That’s the trouble with dog lovers – they’ve got no empathy or understanding for those who don’t share their feelings. ‘Personally, Gigi, I think it’s weird that people hate spiders. If you pick one up it’s like having a tickle in your hand – what’s not to like? I know they bite – all spiders bite – but the fangs are too small to break the skin …’

‘I’m not scared of spiders,’ she says.

‘Okay. Maybe it’s not a very good example. Take something like a fear of buttons. Buttons don’t bite. Obviously, I respect the fear of anyone who’s scared of buttons, but I’d never brandish one in their face or chase after them with one, or force them to stroke one, Gigi. It’s the same as pushing someone off a cliff if they’re scared of heights and saying, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”’

‘Fern, I honestly haven’t got a clue what you’re on about. Nobody hates buttons.’

‘It’s a thing!’ I stop right there because the dog starts coming towards me, its nails clicking on the ground. I back away nervously, feeling the fear take hold. ‘Can you tie him to the chair? Please?’

Gigi gives me a look of exasperation and loops the lead through the slats of David’s chair. ‘Happy now?’ she asks, folding her arms.

‘Ecstatic,’ I reply with the same amount of sarcasm, watching a polystyrene cup roll in the breeze and come to rest on a drain cover.

Gigi kicks it away with the toe of her trainers.

As I go to pick it up, curiosity gets the better of me. I asked innocently, ‘Anything exciting going on with you and David?’

‘Other than I’ve dumped him, you mean?’

I’m stunned. I can’t believe it. ‘What? How come?’

‘He’s got it in his head that we ought to get married. Too little, too late is what that is. Anyway, that whole weekend away opened my eyes, Fern. If he wants to marry someone who’s going to chop up vegetables on his bloody chopping board, then he’s had it. After a year together he still hasn’t noticed that I buy my vegetables ready-chopped.’

‘But doesn’t he want you to choose an engagement ring?’

‘I’m not choosing my own ring!’ She snorts her contempt. ‘It’s meant to be a surprise!’

‘Gigi, you’re going to break his heart.’