Sounds like I’d had one jar too many that night.

‘I can’t believe I’d offer up something so huge and not remember it. I’m sorry, Isla.’

‘It’s OK. I’d just latched onto it … And now things are looking incredibly unlikely for me, and so when I kept hearing you talking so negatively about everything … About how much birth grosses you out … I mean, you went to that child-free meet-up and pretty much all your articles at .dot are centred around this topic nowadays.’

My eyes widen. ‘I know I’ve been slightly fixated on it over the past few months, but can you blame me? I’ve had a massive life overhaul after breaking up with Jacob – I’ve been questioning everything whilst feeling behind everyone else! I’m really sorry, but I also really needed this.’

Isla sighs and looks down at the floor. ‘This is all such a mess, and now I feel totally weird for even saying anything about the surrogate thing.’ She takes a step back.

‘You’re not weird. You’re in pain right now. There’s a difference.’ We stand there awkwardly and I make the first move. She lets me hug her and we hold each other tightly. It feels good. Like things might start to go back to how they should be.

‘You will get through this, Isla,’ I say. But of course, we don’t know for sure. Isla doesn’t look up, she doesn’t look at me. I can’t help but fear an invisible wedge has grown between us. What if there’s no way back?

‘Here, I got this for you.’ She passes me a small box, tied with gold ribbon.

‘Happy birthday Ol,’ she says.

‘Oh wow, Isla.’

I open it, and a gold chain with a green olive-leaf pendant sits on a velvet cushion.

‘It’s gorgeous.’

‘Sorry that it’s been so tense,’ she says.

‘It’s OK.’ I say. ‘I’m sorry too.’

Bea and I stay the night at Cecily’s after the party. No sign of OAP as Chris’s parents are looking after him for the weekend. Isla decides to go home. We leave things on a good note, but I am too embarrassed to tell the others what happened. Am I mad, or is Isla mad? Cec shows each of us in our couples to her fancy guest rooms, complete with folded White Company towels and lavender sprays on the pillows. Cec’s house is modern but it is still cosy and has all the fancy tech: press a button to lower the blinds; press a button to lift the bed up, dim the lights, or play some music when showering. Before bed, we all watch a film on her big corner sofa under cashmere blankets. We put the electric fire on, finish off the last of the red wine and I flick luxuriously through some magazines that line the coffee table. I love snuggling into Marcus. My friends seem to like him too, which I am happy about. Bea clutches her heart dramatically whenever she spots us holding hands.