‘When are you finishing work?’ Aisha asked, offering the biscuits around again. I gladly accepted another.

‘I’ve still got a fortnight left at work. We’re down to the final two in a huge client pitch, plus I’ve got a campaign that’s about to go live, and my deputy is showing no signs of picking up the reins right now. I’ve got to supervise everything she does. It’s hard to focus on buying nursery equipment until I can get all of that tied up and delegated. Although I’m trying to multi-task… the nesting instinct is real and I’m desperate to get stuck into it. What about you?’

Aisha hesitated. I suddenly felt maybe I had said too much; been a little full-on about work. When you’re in the fast-paced world of consumer PR it’s easy to be swept up in the urgency of everything.

‘I’m still at it, but I don’t have to go into an office at least; I’m freelance,’ she answered quietly.

‘What do you do?’ Susie asked, joining the conversation.

‘Illustrator, of children’s books,’ Aisha said.

‘That’s so cool! Would we know any of your books?’ Susie continued.

‘Probably not. Well, I don’t know, maybe, I’ve done six over here,’ she smiled, her cheeks flushed as though she was embarrassed to have the attention on her. Aisha seemed to lack confidence, which was a shame because she was clearly talented, not to mention beautiful, modest, funny – she was easily the most interesting in this group, in my eyes.

‘What about you?’ Aisha asked.

‘Primary school teacher,’ Susie replied. ‘There’s barely a children’s book I don’t know, perhaps I’ll know some of yours. I’m just hoping this little one can hang on until half term and then I’m all good.’ She patted her swollen belly. ‘I can’t wait to stop now – you wouldn’t believe the probing questions I get on a daily basis from a class of six-year-olds. They seem even more obsessed with my placenta than Lin is!’ We all chuckled.

I had noticed a missed call from Katie during the session, so I took the opportunity to grab a brownie from the table – another Susie and Lin special, my sugar craving was strong this morning – and popped out into the street to phone her back. Katie had been my closest confidante since we bonded on day two of university and was the kind of friend who always saw the funny side of situations. I knew she’d love the massage demonstration story.

‘I need to show you something,’ she had said on that day we first met twenty years ago. Her expression was somber, as though she’d been telling me my cat had been run over. Then she’d ushered me down the corridor of our halls and into her bedroom, where her face had lit up into a wide smile and, giggling, she had pointed to a magnum of Cava. ‘From my parents. Want to help me find some hot guys to share it with?’