Yes, he was handsome if you liked that type, but also scruffier than I’d imagined, his dark hair dirty and a bit too long, and his jeans slung too low, gathering in pools above his grubby Converse. His skin was pale and one arm was heavily tattooed in a way I just wouldn’t have associated with Grace. But what concerned me was the flightiness I sensed. There was something reckless in his eyes that spoke of infidelity and heartbreak, but Grace was blind to it.

‘We’ve got our whole future mapped out,’ she told me as we lolled about in my room, and I tried to imagine the man I’d met agreeing to her saccharine plans. She had a folder in which she kept her notes, thoughts and contacts relating to her wedding, reception, dress and honeymoon. When she wasn’t studying or watching TV, she was on Pinterest, looking for ideas and adding them to the folder.

‘Why don’t you wait till you graduate, and then see how things go?’ I suggested. ‘You never know what curveballs life might throw at you, and your course is five years. It’s a long time.’

But Grace yippered on as if I hadn’t spoken.

‘The wedding will be small.’ She flashed me a picture of an elegant stone-clad house. ‘This is actually the registry office where I live, can you believe it, and the photos happen on this lawn right outside.’ She pointed to the lawn as she pictured herself smiling into the camera with her darling Alex. At least his suit would cover those tattoos. ‘It’ll be chic: just us and close family. Small but perfectly formed! No meringue nightmares! No frocky horror bridesmaids!’

Their friends would be invited to a wedding reception at the pub.

‘You too!’ she laughed, poking me. ‘You’ll have to get a dress! We’re going to have fish and chips and apple crumble with custard – none of that fancy stuff. I’m no Bridezilla, so please tell me if you ever think I’m going over the top. I just want the people who mean the most to us to be able to have fun sharing our day. After all, isn’t that what it’s all about?’