I half wanted to pick Albie up and give him a cuddle, but my hands were full with Joni as I gave her a quick feed. My hormones were out of control at the moment – if I looked at any baby for long enough, my eyes pooled. I was in tears watching a Pampers commercial the other morning, while Joni dozed in my lap. I kept looking from the screen to her and back again – marvelling at her precious vulnerability, and the fact she is so blooming cute. You just can’t appreciate it before you have one of your own.

Lucy came back to the table, just as I was quietly finishing the feed. ‘Meant to ask if you wanted one too?’ she said loudly, putting a hand on my shoulder.

She took me by surprise, coming up behind me so quickly, and somehow I managed to spill the glass of orange juice I was holding in one hand – thankfully cold – down onto Joni.

I automatically held her up in front of me, as far away from my white T-shirt as I could safely reach without losing my grip of her – stupid colour to wear when you’re a mother of a tiny infant. It had missed her face but gone all over her little pale-yellow onesie.

‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry!’ Lucy exclaimed, more loudly than was strictly necessary, as I drew a few glances from other tables. ‘I didn’t mean to make you jump.’

‘It’s fine, don’t worry, I’ll just grab a wipe.’

I jumped to my feet and dashed to retrieve my nappy satchel from the buggy, parked out of the way, on the other side of the café. Thank God I’d remembered a pack of wipes and a change of clothes for her today.

The nappy bag had somehow got its strap tangled with the frame of the buggy and I struggled to free it while holding Joni with one arm, conscious that if orange juice transferred onto this T-shirt, I was unlikely to ever get it off, and I didn’t have a change of clothes for me too.

I yanked the strap again but failed to free the bag. This time I turned for help and noticed Lucy look up. She was the closest person to me and had two free hands, unlike most of the others.

‘Take her for a second, would you?’ I called, pleadingly, to Lucy from across the small café.

Lucy hesitated and for a moment I actually thought she was just going to leave me hanging, drawing unwanted attention from a number of nosy bystanders.

‘Lucy,’ I said again, ‘help me out?’

‘Of course, sure.’ She finally came over and I handed Joni to her.

‘Just don’t get too close,’ I warned.

She put her hands under Joni’s tiny armpits. ‘There’s no babygrow stain I haven’t seen in the last twenty-four hours, believe me.’ She held her out at a safe arm’s length.

Joni gurgled in response.