Mia’s hug back is equally firm.

‘Bea, oh my goodness. You’re not the one that needs to apologize. I’m the one who needs to apologize.’ She holds up a hand to stop me interrupting. ‘I should never have said those things about your cards, or about you. I love your cards, you know I love them. And I love you. You’re my best friend too. I should be the one saying sorry.’

We breathe in sync for a while but eventually let go of each other. I think there are mini tears in both of our eyes.

She’s back, I’ve got her back. ‘Shall we get some food?’

As regular patrons of this particular salad bar, it takes us minimal time to help ourselves to each of our carefully curated salad choices. The only variance today is that I’ve gone for an extra helping of broccoli, in the hope it will make me healthy.

‘So, tell me – what’s been happening?’ I get the first question in so I can eat. I tuck in as soon as the question is out, aiming for the broccoli first. I should have put it closer to the top.

‘I’m pregnant.’

Not what I was expecting her to say.

I stop paying close attention to the broccoli and pull it out from the pile of salad much more quickly than I planned, spraying bits of quinoa everywhere in a glorious halo.

Speared broccoli still in hand, I can’t not talk. ‘Oh my God. This is amazing! You’re going to be such a good mum! I can’t wait till it’s old enough so I can give it margaritas. I wonder what the ickle bug is going to look like. I didn’t even realize you were trying to get pregnant. Are you happy? I can’t believe we’re going to have a baby. When are you due? Tell me everything. How are you doing?’

Perhaps I should have filtered those thoughts a touch.

She inhales and, in a calmer tone than I used, talks me through some of her feelings. ‘Well, to be honest it is a bit of a shock. We weren’t trying. Obviously I’m happy, I am …’ She slows down as she continues, ‘But it isn’t coming at the time I would choose to have a baby. I guess you can’t really control these things all the time, but I had thought we would be better at planning it in.’

‘So if you weren’t trying, what happened?’

‘I blame Mark. His cooking gave me such bad food poisoning that I couldn’t keep any food down for three days. It was so unpleasant. And it turns out when they say your protection against pregnancy may be affected if you miss a couple of pills, they’re not lying. We had sex once that month. Once! And from memory it wasn’t even that good.’ She eats a bite of her lunch, angrily chewing on some spinach leaves. She softens, just a touch. ‘I feel bad saying that. The sex was fine, but I’m angry and he’s pissing me off. Part of me wonders if he did it on purpose.’