‘I mean, we’re not running down the road of a shotgun wedding. Row’s away for work soon, and he’s seeing his folks on his travels. But we said we might try to see a few venues before he goes, you know, just in case the waiting lists are horrific.’

‘Which they will be,’ Molly said with certainty.

Faith took a break from texting to ask, ‘Why do you even know that?’

‘Educated guess.’

‘Educated my arse, Molly, don’t be that girl.’ Betty pointed at her with her fork. ‘We’ve no space at this table for desperate-to-be-married girl.’

Lily’s level of outrage on Molly’s behalf was such that she dropped her glass too soon and sent orange juice swilling across what was left of her extra bacon. ‘I tell you what we’ve no space for, Beatrice.’ I expected her to flip the table, but she held the gesture in; I could see it was there, though, fizzing away. ‘Exclusive feminism! You think that bell hooks would go ahead and—’

‘I’m sorry,’ the waiter interrupted while Lily took a breath. He looked terrified. ‘I saw the …’ He pointed. ‘The orange juice?’

Lily looked down, then, and stared hard at the plate as though she couldn’t quite understand what had happened. ‘You’re a peach.’ She glanced back at the waiter who stood still, stunned by the sheer force of Lily’s smash-the-patriarchy vibes. Molly spluttered a laugh from the end of the table and like a precariously balanced structure – which is exactly what we were – we all one by one followed. ‘Ignore them.’ Lily reached over to take the cloth that was offered and dabbed around the table. The waiter began to move away, then, but she called him back. ‘Do me a solid, would you, and bring out another side of bacon? Please and thanks.’

‘Work up an appetite there, did you?’ I leaned over to move condiments out of her way.

‘Well, come on …’ Lily kept dabbing at the carnage. ‘Bacon never made anything worse.’

Chapter 6

Rowan had been away for nearly a week. Between work, and life, and wedding venues, the trip had crept up on us both without warning. But it was the first time I’d seen him excited about work in as long as I could remember, so I’d practically pushed him out the door to encourage him. Anything to bolster the excitement, I thought. Still, it was the longest we’d been away from each other in years.

‘Are you pining for him like a dog with a dead owner?’ Betty asked, her voice heavy with judgement. There must have been an accompanying eye roll, too, so I was grateful it wasn’t a face-to-face interrogation.

‘Betty …’

‘I know, I’m wasted in retail. But are you?’