Asma gathered up the last of the things she’d need to keep me looking fresh and bridal for the rest of the day, and Freddie did a last twirl in the mirror and picked up her bridesmaid flowers. Mum had already gone ahead to the church to play hostess – she loves an audience, and being the centre of attention, so chose to do that over staying with us in the hotel last night. She said she’d only get in the way, and she’d be better on the day if she slept in her own bed the night before. Our relationship is … well. I try not to think about it. I looked from my dad, to my sister, to my best friend. The people I loved most in the world, here, for me, excited for me. I felt loved by Alexander, of course I did, but since we got engaged everyone had rallied around me and fussed over me and my plans and ideas and it’s been like being in a slushy, cosy cocoon of romance and well wishes. Thinking about it, and how when I return to the suite tonight I’ll be Mrs Francis – married! Me! Finally! – it makes my breath catch in my throat. I couldn’t imagine anything making today any more perfect. It’s like all my insides have been supercharged with electricity and so even simply existing is heightened. Colours feel brighter, emotions feel stronger. Everything is just so right.

‘Both of us,’ Dad said. ‘The shot is for both of us.’

I beamed at him. ‘Let’s do it,’ I declared. ‘Let’s go and raise a tiny toast to love.’

‘Me too?’ Freddie asked.

‘You can have a shot of apple juice,’ I said. ‘I need you on tip-top form.’

She rolled her eyes, making us all laugh. Asma ushered us all out of the room with a sweep of the arm, the door clicked closed behind us. We walked to my future, via the hotel bar.