‘It was planned, wasn’t it? The baby, I mean?’ I asked, trying not to think about Dad’s casual Costco reveal. I had a feeling it wouldn’t exactly be a dream topic for Lucy, the first-time mum-to-be.

‘Totally planned, we talked about it for literally months before we started trying,’ she confirmed. ‘He did seem surprised I got pregnant so quickly though. He actually said he thought only virgins got pregnant on the first try.’

‘I know we used to make fun of the kids that went to Catholic school when we were little but what a sweet, innocent way to live,’ I said with a sigh. ‘Does he think women are like milk? That we go off once we’ve been opened?’

Lucy snorted her tea through her nose. ‘He doesn’t think anything about that kind of stuff. He does the garden. Look at my tomatoes, aren’t they amazing? Don’t let me forget to give you some before you leave, I’m up to my tits in them. I even started pickling. Pickling! What have I become?’

I wondered what university Lucy would make of pregnant and pickling Lucy and pressed my lips together to hide a little smile.

‘Do you remember our old Sunday night ritual?’ I asked, eyeing a bottle of Shiraz on the kitchen counter.

‘Face mask, bottle of wine and two videos for a fiver from Blockbuster?’ Lucy replied. ‘How could I forget? That was the only time in my entire life I didn’t have Sunday dread. Feels like forever ago now though, hard to believe it’s not even been five years.’

I leaned forward, resting my arms on her wooden table, wedging the points of my elbows between the slats. ‘For me it feels like yesterday. You probably don’t miss it at all.’

‘I do actually,’ Lucy countered, brushing her long blonde hair out of her eyes. She had so much more hair than she had the last time I’d seen her. Pregnancy definitely suited our Lucy. ‘But I miss it in the same way I miss getting an ice cream on the way home from school or not having to worry about which TV presenters might be secret kiddy fiddlers. That’s the past, that time’s over, we’re all on to the next thing now. One day, we’ll miss this.’

‘Not all of us are on to the next thing,’ I replied with a touch of regret. ‘The only half-decent part of my present is my past. If my future is all sheds and Snazzlechuffs, I think I’ll wallow in my nostalgia a bit longer, thank you.’

Lucy dropped a sugar lump in her tea and stirred slowly, a thoughtful look on her face. ‘Come on, I can tell you’re dying to talk about it. What happened to Mr Perfect last night?’