‘Exactly. He complained a lot about how I was never truly “in the moment” or “living my life”. He started sounding like a Buddhist monk and it really started to piss me off.’

‘It does sound a bit smug.’

‘Very smug! Like, mate, you’re not a bloody guru.’

‘Olive, was there anything else?’ she asks gently. ‘I mean, it sounds like a disagreement, but not something to throw away nine happy years for. Is there something else going on between you two?’

‘Well … actually, yes.’

‘Go on.’

‘He’s ready to have kids,’ I say bluntly.

‘And?’

‘I’m not.’

‘OK,’ she says. ‘And do you know when you might be?’

‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘I close my eyes and try to imagine myself as a mother but, for whatever reason, I just can’t.’

‘Each to their own, Ol. I remember when we used to chat about the big “baby” question. We both weren’t sure for a long time.’

‘But then most people move on and decide to do it. I mean, look at you. Can I ask – how did you know, that you and Chris were ready to have a baby?’

‘Hmm, well, I always sort of knew deep down, I think. I thought I’d be a much older mum, though, because I wanted to be a partner in my firm before I did the baby thing. But my body sort of took over and I started obsessing over the idea, I guess. Sometime around the end of last year, I woke up one morning and it was like my body wanted it. Craved it like sugar. Like I didn’t have a choice. It was weird; I was as surprised as you, honestly. Then, you know, it just happened quite quickly.’ Cecily laughs, and runs her hands over her bump.

‘Wow. I just feel like everyone’s always so surprised when I say I don’t think I want kids. Like they’re sad for me.’

‘Babe, it’s your life. I’m proud of you for staying true to yourself even though you must be hurting right now.’

‘Thank you.’ I hug her. I miss her, even though she’s right here.

‘Oh Ol. Let’s put on a film and get the blankets out.’ Cec waddles over to her big wooden cabinet and gets out cosy things like candles, hand cream, room scents and extra cushions. Time to nest. Each moment we have alone together now is a ticking time-bomb before OAP comes. The minute she has this baby, nothing else will matter. She says it will, but it won’t. I’ve already experienced it with Bea: our friendship suffered massively when she had her first baby. We didn’t speak to her or see her for six months, maybe even a year. None of us anticipated how much of a shift it would cause. It was like losing a family member – and in some ways perhaps that triggers me. Cec will have a new love, a deeper love. And that’s the way it should be. But it won’t be the same between us after that. I hug into her closely on the sofa that evening and, when I go to leave later, I linger by the front door awkwardly.