More clapping and murmuring. I feel a tightness in my chest. A sharp, immediate sadness that almost takes my breath away, as if I’ve jumped into an icy lake. I suppose that’s what I wanted with Jacob – I wanted him. I wanted a long fulfilled life with him. Time and space for us to focus on each other and grow old together. But, ultimately, that was not what he wanted.

The clapping subsides and Iris asks the crowd if anyone has a question, reminding the audience that they have to be safe, welcoming and kind. A woman stands up in the back row. She has a strong presence; she is older, probably mid-seventies, with a sour, frowny face. She clears her throat and someone hands her the sweaty mic:

‘I have a question, but really it’s more of a comment.’ Everyone lets out a groan. ‘The overarching themes seem to be that one should remain childless – sorry, child-free – in order to dedicate time to be a creative, or an academic or a writer, or to have better relationships or to travel the world. Why are you justifying yourselves? Yes, maybe you’d be bad parents. But nobody here is identifying the truth. Parenthood is a bad idea because children are annoying and parenthood is boring. Tonight would have been more stimulating if it hadn’t been so monotonous and repetitive. Be honest. Stop making excuses! It’s fine to just say: I don’t want kids. End of conversation.’

Iris is clapping politely and looking around the room, checking that no one is offended.

Colin nudges me, suddenly recognizing someone in the crowd. ‘Hey Ol, look!’ He subtly points across the room, clutching his chest: ‘I fucking love her. Kweeeeen!’

‘Who is she?’ An old friend from school? A colleague? Who?

We then hear whispers and muffles from all around. Ohh, shit, it’s Jemima Jenkins, a real British actress standing right there. She starred in Six Women, a popular Channel 4 sitcom portraying the cosmopolitan dating lives of women in London. And here she is: in a leather jacket with a faux fur collar and chunky boots, and hugging Iris like she’s some long-lost sister. She settles down on a bar stool and is handed a tall glass of prosecco by Iris’s helper who is also wielding a clipboard.

Iris strides into the middle of the crowd again with the mic. ‘Hi everyone! I hope you’re enjoying your drinks and meeting new people. Now, we have a really special guest here tonight. Please don’t overwhelm her, I know you won’t!’ Iris glances over and gives Jemima a reassuring smile. ‘Up you come, Jemima! You can intro yourself – as if you need to!’

Jemima shrugs her jacket off; underneath she is wearing a top that glitters like a Seventies disco ball. Her boobs are suspiciously high up and unmoving. Her shiny top reflects sparkling shards of light all around the room.

‘Hello. I’m Jemima. I’m a TV actress and I’ve had the pleasure of working with HBO on a few different sitcoms, some of which you might have watched. They were the best few decades of my career, actually – the absolute time of my life. I don’t do public speaking by the way, so bear with me! I hardly ever do interviews; I just don’t like the nosiness. The press, the paparazzi – they are all intrusive idiots as far as I’m concerned. Anyway, I’m here because I care deeply about this community. This amazing safe space that Iris and her team have created. Thank you, Iris. Let me tell you a bit about my story.’