‘Oh, yes. Toby and Faith are perfect for each other. Do you think they’re in love?’

‘I think they’re well on their way. And, yes, perfect for each other. I’ve never seen Faith so happy with any man and I’ve known her almost all of her life.’ I break off another piece of bread, top it with a sliver of cheese and pop it in my mouth. ‘How old are you, Poppy?’ I can’t believe I don’t know. ‘Twenty-one? Twenty-two.’

‘I’m thirty-three next month.’

I almost choke on my pineapple tinged wine. ‘You’re not!’

‘I know, I look young. It’s because I’m small.’

‘Thirty-three? Okay. And you don’t have a boyfriend?’

‘Not really.’

I probe Poppy as to what she means by this.

‘Well, I’d love to be with someone in a committed relationship – I think, at some point, everyone does – but no one’s fit the bill for me so far. So…’

‘So?’

‘So, while I pass the time, and hope it happens, one day, I have friends. Special friends.’

‘What do you mean “special friends”?’ I suspect I know what Poppy means.

‘Miss Gracie, I have special friends that I have sex with,’ Poppy confirms. ‘I call them my shag buddies.’

Pineapple wine sprays out of my mouth. Poppy passes me a napkin and I dab my face clean.

‘These friends are purely for booty-calls?’

‘Pretty much. They’re not friends I call to hang out with. I wouldn’t invite them to a nice French restaurant to drink wine and eat cheese.’ Poppy grins. ‘They’re just for sex, you see?’

Gaspard comes over to ask if we want another bottle. I decline, mostly to get rid of him without him returning, so we can continue our conversation in the utmost privacy. It’s early, only 6 p.m., so we’re alone in the downstairs section. Upstairs, I hear the restaurant filling up.

‘Poppy, I get the whole Netflix and chill thing,’ I go on. ‘But you said shag buddies, as in plural. How many do you have?’

She lowers her voice to barely a whisper. ‘A few. We all have lives. It’s good to spread the load.’

‘Ha!’

‘Yes, so to speak.’ Poppy giggles at her accidental joke. ‘That’s the beauty of it. No strings. And no inhibitions. Miss Gracie, the sex is the best I’ve ever had.’

‘Goodness. I say, Poppy…’

‘It stops me getting too lonely, while I wait for Mr Right, whoever he might be.’ Poppy shrugs her slender shoulders with forced nonchalance. I want to hug her, but it’s not really my style. I’m not one to make a fuss if it isn’t warranted. But it’s a comfort to know I’m not the only one who battles to stay positive. ‘There’s no attachment, but it’s friendly, and there’s mutual respect. Nobody gets hurt. Everyone needs sex, right?’