‘Rose, hi! I’m great, thank you – you look well!’ I say, remembering to smile without gritting my teeth this time.

‘So do you. I haven’t seen you since we left school! I kept asking Cec to arrange a reunion, but we never got around to it. Our parents are friends, so we’ve stayed in touch.’

‘Gosh, school was so long ago now. You’re making me feel old now,’ I say, pointing at my face.

‘We both need a top-up!’ Rose reaches for a fresh bottle of champagne on one of the side tables and pops it open, filling us up. Both glasses overflow and spill onto the floor. ‘Woops!’

‘So what’s new with you?’ I ask, swallowing a big mouthful of bubbles.

‘Oh, you know. Life. I’m feeling pretty shattered, to be honest. I just had a baby.’

Just like everyone else, I think.

‘Well, six months ago now,’ she continues. ‘A little boy. He’s over there with my husband.’

I look over reluctantly. I see about five men with babies in papooses.

‘Oh, congrats! He looks lovely,’ I say.

‘Can I tell you something?’ She lowers her voice. ‘I hate it.’

I laugh, nervously.

She continues: ‘Seriously, Olive: don’t do it.’

‘I’m sure it’s not so bad!’ I say awkwardly.

‘It’s bad. It’s fucking bad.’ Her lip wobbles a bit.

‘Oh, Rose …’

‘It’s OK. My husband, he loves it. He’s a total natural. I suppose that makes me lucky, it’s not like I have to do everything on my own but … I … I just feel weirdly flat about it all really.’

She’s glugging down the champagne pretty fast and pours more from the bottle, almost missing her glass. She pours me another overflowing flute.

‘Shall we go and sit down over there?’ I point towards the corner of the kitchen where there are two comfy velvet chairs in a bay window. We squeeze past some people who are lingering and drinking around the kitchen island, nodding and smiling blankly to strangers until we get to the seats.

‘So, what is so bad exactly?’ I ask, drinking more and more with every question. I realize I’ve picked up the wrong glass – it’s not mine, it has a different-coloured lipstick mark on, but who cares at this point?

‘Oh lord, where do I start?’ She is speaking in a hushed tone. ‘We didn’t bond at the beginning, me and the baby. I suppose that’s normal though, is it? But I just miss my old life. God, I miss it so much. I miss having five minutes to myself, to gather my thoughts, to send an email, to just think for a second. I am so sleep-deprived. I feel like I am going totally insane …’ She gulps.

‘It sounds hard,’ I say, feeling genuinely intrigued.

‘Mmm-hmm. The other day – don’t tell anyone – my husband was out and I just turned the baby monitor off. I just left the baby to cry in the other room. I ignored my own baby. For ages. I just couldn’t face it.’