Probably unlike most people here, I hadn’t managed to kick the single-shot lattes completely this pregnancy. I usually saved them for a weekend treat when Jason would also indulge me in my craving for almond croissants. But this evening I decided to make an exception.

‘Decaf, of course!’ Lucy added to her order.

‘Me too,’ Lin smiled. ‘I may not be the one expecting, but caffeine – yuck!’ She pulled a disgusted face.

‘Decaf for you too?’ asked Susie. It felt as though they were all looking in my direction.

I paused for a moment.

‘I’ll have a weak, normal one,’ I replied, feeling rebellious.

To my relief no one actually fainted.

Lucy came into the kitchen and set a dish down on the side.

‘Oh wow – look at that work of art!’ Lin exclaimed, peering over the salad. ‘I want to put my face in it, it looks so good.’

‘I happened to have ingredients in the fridge to use up,’ Lucy smiled proudly. ‘I just threw it together really. Do you need a hand, Aisha? Let’s face it, most people have probably burnt bruschetta at least once in their life.’

I was struggling pathetically with the skylight, trying to let out some of the smoke from the smouldering bread. I felt a twinge of jealousy listening to the admiring comments about her salad from the others. I had failed all over again. ‘No, it’s okay, it’s all fine. Please, go through to the lounge, I won’t be a minute,’ I said, flustered.

I found I was actually grateful for Susie and Lin’s bossiness because at least they had made sure everyone had a hot drink in their hand.

When I eventually rejoined the group in the living room, everyone had arrived, including Camilla, our breastfeeding instructor. She had dyed red hair and elfin features. She stood up from the leather pouffe on which she was sat, and reached out to shake my hand. ‘Hello Aisha! Do call me Mila. Ready to start?’ I noticed a plastic doll, a knitted breast, a plastic contraption that looked like a foghorn and a lever-arch file full of printed sheets next to her. Who knew breastfeeding was so complicated?

‘Sorry about the bruschetta,’ I bit my lip. ‘But luckily we’ve got Lucy’s amazing salad, some spring rolls, a pack of chocolate fingers, Susie and Lin’s legendary brownies and an emergency tub of Pringles. A slightly random menu, but we won’t starve, will we?’ They all made reassuring noises about how they preferred salad, spring rolls, chocolate fingers and Pringles to bruschetta anyway, and then the room fell into silence.

Initially I felt a little self-conscious about our flat; with all the photos on display, it felt very exposing this early into our friendships. A couple of times I caught people looking at the photos. Sometimes it was strikingly obvious that we had only been friends for a few weeks and barely knew anything about each other’s lives before being pregnant. But I supposed that the current collection of framed milestones in mine and Jason’s life would soon be replaced by baby images, so I might as well show off my pre-baby life while I could.