‘I think so!’ she says, with a strong exhale. ‘Oh, there was one thing. Lauren booked a photographer, Rebecca Crossly? Apparently, they just did a shoot together and she liked her, so that’s taken care of. Lauren posted about her this morning. Look at this amazing photo.’ Risky shoves her phone under my nose. I see a photo of Lauren, naked, as usual. Her modesty is protected by a strategically placed blanket. She looks every bit like she just got caught masturbating. ‘The photos are coming out after the wedding. Doesn’t she look amazing?’

‘Yes, she does,’ I say, turning away from the screen. I actually feel OK about my body until I look at pictures of thin and beautiful people on Instagram. It’s the main reason I don’t really go on it. I see it as a form of torture. It’s like being skint but walking around the Selfridges’ food hall. Don’t put yourself through it.

‘Rebecca Crossly,’ I mutter, typing her name into Google. A lot of heavily Photoshopped photos of naked women come up – it seems to be her thing. No weddings. But if Lauren booked her, then I guess that is fine. She fired the original photographer two days ago but her mother refused everyone I suggested. So now it’s not my problem. ‘OK, cool.’

My phone vibrates and it’s Michael calling on FaceTime. I answer and see my face appear in the corner of the screen. I’ve definitely gained a chin in recent months.

‘Hey, Mummy, I just wanted to say I miss you,’ he says in a baby voice, holding the phone to Tommy’s face. A woman on the table next to me smiles and Risky looks like she might ejaculate.

‘Oh, hey little man, Mummy misses you too!’ I say back, his gorgeous face making my breasts swell and my heart thump. It’s just another few weeks, then I’ll be with him full time. I can do this. ‘How are you guys doing today?’

‘We’re good,’ says Michael, holding the phone in front of his face now. ‘We just had a walk, and now we’ll have a bottle and bed. Your stash is running low, maybe we should be thinking about formula soon?’

‘No. No, we have loads of breast milk here, I’ll bring it home,’ I say, a little desperately. Breast feeding is my way of dealing with being back at work so soon after having Tommy. I might not be doing the day-to-day with my baby, but I’m keeping him alive with my boobs and that is really important to me right now.

‘OK, well we just wanted to tell you we love you,’ Michael says, squashing his face close to Tommy’s. He blows me a kiss, and we say goodbye. He’s always so sweet on the phone. Maybe it’s because he knows we can’t physically touch.