‘Her house insurance will be null and void,’ she says, glaring as she moves the picture of the glitter-dipped roses to the top of the board.

‘You didn’t see his face, Lou. I accused him of manipulation and he was like an injured bird – but with an attitude. Hurt and pissed off, you know?’ Lou raises her eyebrows. ‘He doesn’t look like a burglar,’ I add.

‘No, he wouldn’t, would he? Since they got rid of swag bags and monochrome branding, it’s been notoriously difficult to identify them. Sharpen up, Kat!’ She rolls her eyes at me, leaning across to nick a mushroom from the pan. ‘And, for the record, you can never have too much glitter at a wedding.’‘Maybe Will could do me a quick character check? Run his name through their computers or something? Coppers have access to that stuff, he’d know if he was dodgy, right?’

‘Well, I can ask him, Kat, but he tends not to do that anymore. Not since we found out Mum’s gardener had a record for nicking one of those magazine’s off the top shelf when he was twelve and I happened to mention I knew about it. Will said I couldn’t be trusted.’

I do remember the incident. Not the gardener lifting the magazine, but the moment Lou mentioned it. The look on his face as she accused him of all kinds of perversion. ‘Poor guy, never seen anyone leapfrog a box tree,’ I say. ‘He was puce!’

‘Well, we can’t have just anyone trimming Mum’s bush, can we?’ Lou cackles at her own joke, and I can’t help but join in. ‘So what is he like then?’ she asks, sneaking in the question while I’m off guard. ‘Rhys I’m-not-a-burglar-but-might-be-a-little-bit-weird the plumber.’

‘Lou!’

‘What? Give me a description, then I’ll know what to tell the police when you suddenly disappear and they need a prime suspect.’

‘For God’s sake!’ I dish out the food into our waiting bowls, chipped from clumsy efforts at washing up. ‘Mind, it’s a bit sharp,’ I say, twisting the broken side away from her.

‘You need a dishwasher,’ she says. ‘Or a lap boy to do the dirty work.’ I turn my back, heading for the lounge. ‘Go on then – descriptions. Paint me a picture,’ she shouts after me.

‘Well…’ I sigh, thinking. ‘He’s quite tall. Maybe six foot two? And he has medium brown hair, sort of floppy.’

‘How floppy? Aidan Turner Poldark floppy, or Zayn Malik the early years?’

‘Erm… Aidan Turner, maybe? But it isn’t curly. And he doesn’t carry a scythe. He’s got Poldark stubble though, enough to pass as sexy, not lazy. And good arms, yes. He has great arms – plumber, you see. Manual labour. Keeps them fit, doesn’t it.’ I sip at my wine whilst I think what else. ‘His eyes are a sort of hazel brown with greeny flecks? If you look closely.’

‘If you look closely?’

‘Well, you know. They’re sort of inviting… A little bit naughty. But he doesn’t look like Aidan, he just…’ I trail off. Lou is staring at me; bowl down on the table, arms folded. Through the Botox I can almost tell her eyebrows are raised.