‘I can’t see Lena in a dress. I’m still amazed she came over for it. It’s not as if we’re close.’

‘I think she’s killing a few birds with one stone. She was telling me earlier that she’s thinking of selling the flat when we move out.’

Will moved in pretty much as soon as Mike and Sarah left. It happened fairly organically. He stayed the night after we celebrated his company landing the car contract, and then he never quite seemed to leave. Every so often, he’d be consumed with guilt and spend a couple of days at home with his father, only for Jonathan to tell him robustly that he was fine and send him packing back to me again. Lena hadn’t seemed in any hurry to advertise Mike’s room, to my relief, so when I told her that Will was interested in taking his place, she was delighted. However, we have started to look for somewhere that we can make our own, so I’m not surprised that Will’s been talking to Lena about it.

The only downside I’ve discovered about living with Will, and it’s not his fault at all, is that the standard of food nosedived rather when Mike left. His cooking had definitely spoiled me and, while Will was perfectly competent in the kitchen – much more so than me – I did miss it. I never said anything to Will, but he obviously picked up on it because he enrolled us both on a cookery course a month or so later. My initial reaction was most politely described as reluctant, but we both really enjoyed it and have since developed a kind of teamwork in the kitchen. I’m chief recipe researcher, as well as the weigher and measurer of ingredients, and Will is the cook and chief server. Whenever we find something we like, I transcribe it on the computer and print it out using dyslexic-friendly fonts, so Will can follow it by himself if I’m working late.

‘I’m ready,’ I call as I zip my case closed. My bridesmaid dress is hanging on the wardrobe door in its bag, and Will takes it almost reverentially to carry it down to the car before returning to pick up our cases. Lena is exactly as I’d expected her to be, wearing combat fatigues and hugging the enormous rucksack that Will mentioned.

‘I prefer to keep my belongings around me,’ she says when Will offers to carry it for her. ‘Most of the places I go, you give a bag to someone else and you’ll never see it again.’

‘I think you can trust Will,’ I remark.

‘Force of habit.’