‘Exactly so. So, you read them your toast, you give them a wee present that you’ve made yourself and put some love into, and you’ll send them something nice again when the first baby’s born, if you’re not too fucked off that they not only didn’t come to your birthday night out but forgot it completely, but you know that really that’s all that’s left. When they come out the other side, blinking in the light when the kid’s about ten or something, you might meet them in the street by chance, and it’ll be so friendly; you’ll hug, you’ll swap numbers, you’ll make promises to go for coffee, but you know they’re secretly hoping you don’t call. You’ve lived on different planets for too long by that point.’

Simon slumped even further into his seat. ‘Shit. I was hoping you’d tell me it was just a phase, and we’d get through it.’

‘Babe, I’m forty years old. Loads of people my age have teenagers now. I’ve had it happen time and time again. They’re gone, they just haven’t realized it yet.’

‘Biology.’

‘Biology. See, as a woman and a feminist I’m not supposed to admit that, but it totally, totally is.’

‘You really don’t look forty, by the way. I’d never have thought—’

‘That’s very sweet, but I do look forty. This is what forty looks like when you still get eight hours’ sleep a night, all your pals are twenty-four, and you don’t really have anyone else to worry about beside yourself. See, at – what age are you?’

‘Twenty-nine.’

‘Yeah. When thirty still feels like a big scary monster on the horizon, forty seems like death. But you take all that biology out of the equation and it’s pretty fucking great, actually. I’m not in a race to procreate before my body trips me up; I’ve been around long enough to know what sort of clothes, drink and pals do and don’t suit me; I don’t feel the need to apologize for who I am any more. So, you have to say your farewells to the people who got you through the first bit of growing up, and that’s the toughest hurdle to face. But if you have a look around, you’re actually in the perfect place to meet your next set of friends. Look at all these babbies still dancing away because they don’t have anything more pressing to do on a weekend evening. Imagine how wise you’ll seem to them, hon! Ten years’ time and you’ll be looking this fucking fabulous, sitting someone else down to talk their face off just like this. You find your team, your new tribe, in the leftovers after the ceremony’s done. The ones hanging on to the bitter end.’