I realise I’ve zoned out slightly, and as I tune back into the conversation, I find that the chat about my and Alice’s wedding has now somehow segued into the story of how Phil proposed to Becky. It’s an anecdote everyone here is clearly already familiar with, but you can tell the protagonists get a massive kick out of rehashing it.

‘Show them the photo again, Phil!’ Becky squeals.

‘There you go.’ Phil passes me his iPhone – an iPhone 14, I notice – and I squint down at the picture. It’s taken from far away, like a long-lens paparazzi shot, and it shows Phil and Becky on a swanky-looking speedboat. He’s down on one knee holding a velvet box open as Becky does her best Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone impression: shrieking with both hands clasped to her face.

‘Where were you again?’ I ask Phil.

‘Cancún, mate,’ he says smugly.

‘Right, yeah. So who took the photo?’

‘They’ve told you this so many times, Ben,’ Alice mutters.

‘I’d hired a guy beforehand,’ Phil explains. ‘Gave the doorman at our hotel twenty pesos to snap a few pics with my Nikon as soon as I got down on one knee.’

I look at Becky. ‘So the whole day, there was a random bloke on the shore watching you through a camera without you knowing about it?’

‘Yes!’ Becky tilts her head at Phil. ‘It’s so romantic, isn’t it?’

Everyone murmurs in agreement, although ‘romantic’ isn’t exactly the word I’d use. It sounds like the kind of stunt the Walking Dead guy might pull if there’s ever a Love Actually sequel.

‘How did you pop the question again, Ben?’ Marek asks me.

Becky claps her hands. ‘Oh yes! I love this story.’

All five of them are staring at me now, their smiles withering fast as I gape back in silent panic.

‘Ha! He can’t bloody remember!’ Phil booms.

‘I, er … No, of course I can … I just …’ I can feel myself going bright red. I glance over at Alice. ‘You tell the story so much better, babe.’

Babe. What the hell is happening to me?

Confusion and fury are fighting for territory in Alice’s eyes, but she manages to compose herself. ‘What is my fiancé like, honestly?’ There’s a tinkle of polite laughter. She continues. ‘Well … we were in New York, on Broadway, about to go and see Legally Blonde: The Musical, and Ben did this whole sweet little routine, pretending to bend down and tie his shoelaces, and then suddenly he was looking up at me and holding a box …’

‘Aw,’ says Dee.

‘Bless,’ says Becky.

‘Classic,’ says Phil.

Alice nods. ‘Yeah. It was a total surprise, and I just—’

‘Oh come on, Ali,’ Becky scoffs. ‘You’d been dropping hints for months.’

There’s laughter again at this, though you can feel the tension in it.