‘When’s he next back? Would be nice to get together.’

‘I don’t know, Ol.’ She sighs, acting all defensive. ‘And how’s Jacob doing?’ she asks, turning it back on me, desperately wanting to change the subject.

‘Oh … um … well actually—’

Isla suddenly pops out from behind the kitchen counter, interrupting us.

‘Hi gang!’

She’s holding a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and looking slightly manic.

‘I probably shouldn’t be drinking, but I’m in between IVF cycles and one or two can’t hurt – just don’t tell my doctor OK?’

She seems to be holding it together, but I’m worried she’s going to find today hard with all this baby paraphernalia around her. Mike is working late, apparently, so I make a mental note to keep an eye out for her. In case she gets too drunk.

Cecily comes tottering over, trying to remain balanced on some very high-heeled, gold strappy sandals with zero support.

‘Those shoes look very uncomfortable.’ The words have left my mouth before I have a chance to stuff them back in.

‘They’re fine, Olive,’ she says abruptly. ‘Thanks for coming guys.’

‘What normally happens at a baby shower then?’ I whisper to Bea. I almost feel like I’ve paid money to be here, and I want a performance.

‘Olive, stop overthinking everything. Just muck in,’ Bea says.

‘Yeah, just mingling really,’ Cecily says, having clearly overheard. ‘Try and have fun Olive,’ she adds snippily.

‘I’ll try,’ I reply, gritting my teeth.

The tension feels as if it’s growing – not lessening – between us. I suddenly need the loo or, at least, a little breather. All the guests are piling in now and a lot of women are screaming and hugging and squealing in Cecily’s face. Eurgh.

On the way to the bathroom, I bump into Cecily’s mother, Tiff. Tiff is really quite something. Everyone knows Tiff. Or, should I say, everyone avoids Tiff. She’s loud, smells of Elnett hairspray, wears pearls, and has long red nails. She’s judgemental, rude, opinionated, political, un-PC and extremely overbearing. Over the years, I’ve learned to humour her and take what she says with a pinch of salt. She’s always been slightly passive aggressive and ghastly with her comments. Every time she came round to our student house she would Febreze everything and bring her own blanket to sit on in the living room. Cecily’s family appear nice enough on the outside, but they are very controlling and it has been difficult sometimes, watching Cecily being cornered into making decisions that just suit her parents. Like the time they hijacked Cecily’s wedding and made her rearrange it and change the location to suit them. We all looked after Cecily when she was crying in our beds so many times during that stressful time. We knew deep down that she didn’t want to be a top-dog lawyer; she had been forced into that too. What she really wanted was to be an interior designer, and she would make such a great one. I hate it when people get stuck in career paths they don’t love because they want to impress their parents. I guess this is the only upside of having an emotionally distant mother – she never gets involved with my life choices.