I find her house, a thin well-kept semi-detached with a small garden and driveway in the front. I’m almost glad that she lives on a modern housing estate that could be in any town and that I don’t have to go to the town centre that’s full of memories.

She opens the door before I even get to it. She looks completely different and not only because she’s got a baby balanced on her hip. Her hair that was once blonde and ironed straight is in loose waves that are almost brown. She’s wearing leggings with a long T-shirt over the top. It’s the most clothes I’ve ever seen her wear; she lived that summer in tiny shorts or skirts.

‘You’re here! I was just watching by the window as I didn’t want you to ring the doorbell. For once it’s this man that’s up,’ she says, grabbing hold of Alfie’s little hand as he giggles, ‘but Brett is fast asleep and I didn’t want to wake him or he’ll be a right grump. But I’m so pleased you’re here.’

She pulls me into a hug and I try not to squish Alfie.

‘Hello, and hello you.’ I’m not brilliant with babies and Alfie hides his face against Soph. ‘You look like you haven’t changed at all.’

‘You’re just being nice.’ She runs a hand over her face. ‘I have wrinkles, and this hair is not my natural colour, and these bags under my eyes, I hope I didn’t have those when we knew each other. I feel like I haven’t slept in years.’

‘That’s how I felt when we were working at Hartland’s.’

‘You’re right, maybe I did have such big bags then too. You know, these sleepless nights are so different to those sleepless nights.’

I love the fact that she still talks a million miles an hour, just like she did when she was a teenager, like one long stream of consciousness.

‘Sleep when you’re dead,’ we both say, laughing.

‘Oh, I’ve missed you. Come on in.’

She ushers me into the kitchen.

‘This little monster hasn’t been up from his nap long. It’ll be a nightmare getting him to bed.’

She tickles him and looks at him with so much love. It’s weird seeing someone that you once saw dance on a bar in their underwear and downing funnels of beer now responsible for a baby.

I hand her the bottle of champagne that I’ve brought with me and she thanks me and puts it in the fridge.

‘A bit more upmarket than the Archers and Pernod we used to drink.’

‘Oh, don’t.’ My stomach lurches at the thought.