‘I think they could take over the world by next Saturday,’ Sumi replied. ‘Wedding planning not going well?’

‘It’s going OK, I think,’ I said, utterly unsure. ‘Although I did see a Post-it note on the fridge that said “Call Pam about cake” and then “Venue” with ten question marks, so that’s reassuring.’

‘As long as you’ve got cake,’ she said. ‘What else could you need?’

‘Flowers, music, chairs, tables, decent food and a muzzle for Jo.’

She pulled me in for a hug then rested her head on my shoulder, bracing herself for another round of braying as the door flew open.

‘Where did Lucy meet all these women?’ I asked as our lucky thirteenth pregnant guest arrived. ‘I didn’t know there were this many pregnant women in all of England.’

‘It happened when they moved,’ she whispered, lowering her voice so that the mombies wouldn’t hear. ‘Suddenly there were all these shiny couples hanging around their house. Very straight, very white, literally no sense of humour.’

‘So, Dave’s friends?’ I guessed.

‘That’s what I thought at first but there can’t be this many people on earth who actually like him,’ Sumi reasoned. ‘Every time I went over there were more of them. I blame you for leaving. I think she was auditioning to replace you in case you never came back.’

‘Looking for a shinier version with more functions?’ I asked, comparing myself to the sparkly herd of pregnant women, swarming around my friend.

Sumi shrugged. ‘When you buy a new phone, you don’t ask for a model that’s worse than the one you have, do you?’

‘When I buy a new phone, I accidentally send a text out to everyone I’ve ever met and end up getting spammed by personal accident lawyers morning, noon and night,’ I replied. ‘Is it me or do they all have the same handbag?’

‘It’s not you.’ Sumi pressed her hand against her forehead and groaned. ‘How have I got a headache when we didn’t even drink last night?’

‘It’s only about to get worse,’ I warned cheerfully, watching as the door opened. ‘Patrick’s here.’

‘And he brought his friends,’ she sighed happily. Behind Patrick was Adrian and behind Adrian was John. ‘This should be fun.’

‘Wow.’

Patrick, hair mussed, shirt, tie and trousers all tailored to perfection, swooped down on my best friend before greeting me, planting here-I-am kisses on both of her cheeks before she could protest. The charm offensive, I noted with relief, was on. His black tie was loosened slightly at the throat, the top button was undone and his sleeves were rolled halfway up his perfectly toned forearms. He looked as though he’d just stopped in on his way to compose an epic love poem or rescue a baby from a burning vehicle. He was perfect.

‘This is incredible, Sumi. Did you do all this?’