‘Hello darling!’ Tiff air-kisses me and nearly suffocates me with her intense levels of hairspray. She has quite a lot of red lipstick on her two front teeth.

‘Tiff! Lovely to see you,’ I say, my faux smile appearing again.

‘How glorious does our Cecily look?’ Tiff remarks, looking over at Cecily in a self-satisfied way.

‘So gorgeous. Just like her mother,’ I smile, and then realize I’m clenching my teeth again. My level of sarcasm has suddenly become risky.

‘So, do you think you’ll be next?’ Tiff says, sipping her champagne, hand on hip.

‘Sorry?’ I decide to play dumb.

‘You know, next to have a baby!’ exclaims Tiff, flapping the hand that wasn’t wrapped around a champagne glass.

‘Oh … Ha! Who knows!’ I reply.

‘Go on … have a baby,’ Tiff whispers smugly, leaning in to touch my arm, and fluttering her eyelashes with delight.

‘Maybe one day,’ I squirm.

‘Oh go on!’ she replies.

Oh yes, Tiff, of course, because you have told me to, I will get on it, tomorrow!

‘Oh, you’d look just divine with a bump, darling. Having babies is just glorious, I loved being pregnant.’

‘That’s nice to know.’

‘It sounds silly but I really recommend it, darling. Also, you know, I don’t want to sound like a nag, but the clock is ticking for you girls. I was thirty when I had Cec, and honestly? It was way too old, really.’

‘Well I—’

‘You don’t want to be a geriatric mum,’ Tiff interrupts, loudly. ‘Well, actually, you probably already are, I suppose!’

Isla appears behind me and hands me a glass of champagne. ‘You look like you need this!’ Isla says, smiling at me.

‘Thank you,’ I say, relieved to see her, saving me from this conversation.

Tiff fake-laughs and enters the conversation again with gusto. ‘Isla, hello darling!’ Tiff air-kisses Isla. ‘We were just talking about babies! What are your thoughts, hmm?’ Tiff says, taking another sip from her wine glass.

‘Babies are cute, sure!’ Isla replies, looking at me for support.

‘Do you think you’ll have one?’ Tiff asks, leaning in to Isla.

‘Um …’ Isla looks awkward.

‘Er, it’s not really an appropriate question Tiff,’ I say.

‘No, it’s fine …’ Isla says.

‘No it’s not, Isla,’ I say firmly. ‘It’s not something she wants to discuss, Tiff. In fact, it’s not really something I want to discuss with you either.’

‘Oh goodness. I see!’ Tiff squawks, awkwardly.

Cecily notices us with Tiff and knows to come over and try and save us. ‘Mum, what are you saying to the girls?’

‘Oh, nothing much, darling. We’re having a lovely time. Lovely champagne, this is.’ Tiff turns to Cec to change the subject: ‘I do worry about how you’re going to raise your little one in London, Cecily. London is so … polluted, and grubby, and Oscar will need some proper fresh air to run around in. I don’t want my grandchild being raised in such a polluted city. Hardly any green spaces!’