‘Yes,’ Rebecca says, as if she doesn’t have time for such questions, and I should be just saying yes. But I don’t want to go to a wedding, especially one of someone I don’t know. I don’t feel comfortable at large events like that and I can only imagine the stress of it all on the day. I don’t want to be bossed around and surrounded by people. I like working alone. In my house. Weddings give me nightmares. Well they would, after how mine turned out.

‘She’s paying really well, offered four grand above your normal fee to be present on the day.’

‘Oh.’

‘Come on, Ruby, that’s a new handbag if nothing else. I know how you love a handbag.’

She knows this because I used to carry very impressive bags with me when I worked in advertising. Leather ones. To tone down all the velvet.

‘I mean, I’d ask someone else, it’s a good gig,’ she says, impatiently.

‘No, it’s OK, I’ll do it. Presuming it’s on a weekend?’ I ask, logging onto Net-a-Porter and having a look at the new season Chloé totes.

‘The weekend after next. How could you not know that? It’s all anyone is talking about.’

‘Not the people I talk to,’ I tell her, proudly. Realising that I don’t really talk to anyone.

‘OK. Email me the details,’ I add.

‘I will. Also, I’ve emailed over the pics from the shoot I just did with her, they need a lot of work. She’s given me a list, I sent that too. Can you get them to me by tomorrow? Thursday latest?’

‘I’ll do my best. My child is home sick so I …’

‘Ruby, do I need to ask someone else?’

‘No. No, I’ll get it done.’

‘OK,’ she replies, as if I should count myself lucky. I think Rebecca thinks I should thank her for all the work she gives me. That would make me feel incredibly inferior, when I know that in her line of work my job is more important than hers. Anyone can take a good picture on an iPhone now, it’s me that makes the magic happen. She should really be thanking me. I’m always available, I work weekends, and my work is impeccable. I hang up the call.