‘Do you like your nanny? I worry we will never find the right person when the time comes. You hear so many terrible stories,’ she says, as if that is the biggest concern of having children. ‘I mean, it can’t be easy having to live with another person – luckily we have the annex.’ She points into the garden and at a little house.

‘I don’t actually have a nanny,’ I say, feeling like a pleb. ‘My husband is with him, he managed to get three months’ paternity leave. I’ll take a month or two off when your wedding is over, then I suppose we’ll work out the childcare. But this is working for now.’

‘Wow, your husband is looking after the baby? He took three months off work? Wow, Gavin would never do that. I mean, he’ll be a good dad, I’m sure. But would he do that? No way. You’re very lucky.’

By the sounds of things she doesn’t plan to do much of it either. I don’t know why I’m judging her for that, I’m the one sitting here all upset about some guy calling me fat on Instagram, while my tiny baby is at home drinking from a bottle instead of my boobs.

‘Yes, so people keep saying,’ I say, a little more sarcastically than I mean to.

‘Oh? Is it not as perfect as it sounds?’

‘Is anything?’

She smiles and shakes her head. ‘Maybe never where men are concerned.’

‘You are also very lucky, and I’m sure you’ll find the perfect person to help you.’

Lauren smiles, and takes a sip of her water. ‘Lucky?’ she says, as if I need to explain myself from across the giant marble table, in her giant house, in one of the most sought-after squares in North London. ‘I suppose it’s about what you consider luck to be. None of this comes for free.’

‘No, I’m sure you and Gavin work very hard. But you know, lucky to have a nice house, a gorgeous husband-to-be. A career. It may take work, but it still makes you lucky – not everyone who aims for this gets it.’

Our conversation is interrupted by Mayra bursting into the house.

‘Beth, is this a wedding meeting without me? What’s going on?’

‘Hello Mayra, we were just going over a few things. Just over a week to go now, how exciting,’ I say.

‘Yeah, Mum, it’s my wedding remember?’

As if Mayra is reminded she has company, she switches into nice person mode.

‘Of course, it’s so exciting. Everything looking good, Beth?’

‘Great, yes. It’s all coming together,’ I say uncomfortably. She has a tendency to make you feel that way. ‘I better be off, is it OK if I use your loo before I go?’