‘Faith spends thousands on her cat Benny,’ I say.

Benny is Faith’s enormously sized and gorgeously fluffy tabby-brown Maine Coon, who lives with her on her second-floor flat in the middle of the West End. Something of a man about town, Benny wanders down Floral Street and as far as into the Covent Garden Piazza, by himself. Heading out when Faith leaves for work each morning, he later meows at the communal door until a neighbour opens it, then he’s through the cat flap of the flat, home safe. Attended on by the local traders and tourists with pats and titbits of food, he’s quite the attraction, if not what you’d call trim. An extraordinary personality, Benny’s primordial pouch – his big belly of loose skin – swings side to side as he struts the cobbled streets of his turf. Six years and counting, he is, without doubt, the love of Faith’s life.

‘This Pussy Paws account is worth hundreds of thousands. When we win it, which we will, I’ll have to make director. Robert and I are killing ourselves on this pitch.’

‘Is Robert here now?’ I ask, surprised, and not best pleased if he is.

I like Robert. I’m more than okay that he’s often with Jordan in our basement on weeknights – I reason it’s preferable to me wondering where Jordan might otherwise be of an evening. But if he’s in my home first thing on a Sunday morning, I’ll be annoyed – with Jordan.

Jordan studies me wearily. Or is that warily? ‘Don’t you think Robert has better things to do on a Sunday morning?’

I set a plate of food in front of him. Bacon, eggs, tomato, mushrooms, beans and toast.

‘Thank you.’ He stuffs another rasher into his mouth. ‘Oh my God, that’s good.’ Won over by my salty bacon, chops full, he carries on, ‘I mean, knowing Robert – as we do – he’s probably muddling over the name of whichever dolly he’s waking up to. Bumbling his way out of trouble....’

Usually, we share a laugh when it comes to Robert’s romantic misadventures. Tales of mixed-up names, misplaced panties and women coming and going, not always in an orderly fashion, run rife. Robert is so popular with the ladies, he needn’t bother behaving with any one girl in particular. He’s so affable, he gets away with his behaviour. (Robert maintains some women chase the thrill. With Faith as my best friend, I’ve never thought to judge him.) This morning, though, I’m taking Jordan’s comment personally.

‘And you don’t, Jordan?’

Looking across the room at me, Jordan stops chewing. ‘I don’t what?’