Penny had spoken to Sharon at great length about her desire to become a mother, and how she wanted that almost more than anything in the world. She’d explained to Sharon almost right after they’d met that before the radiotherapy and ensuing hormone therapy, Penny’s eggs had been retrieved and then fertilized with German donor sperm, so that the resulting embryos could be checked for the BRCA mutation. That way, Penny could prevent passing on the risk of breast cancer to her children, and feel a bit more in control about her future. The embryos were currently in a storage unit for the princely sum of three hundred pounds a year, and on-and-off Penny talked about using them, via IVF and with a surrogate. She’d not had a boyfriend since Mo, so it had been about finding the courage to do it alone – she didn’t necessarily believe that first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage, especially when the baby already half-existed as an embryo. She went through increasingly determined phases of feeling incredibly empowered about using them and then finding love later – especially since up until last month it had seemed like love was going to elude her forever – and then getting cold feet and deciding to wait another six months, just in case.

‘Well,’ said Penny. ‘I just don’t know. It’s all been going so well with him, so to be honest I haven’t really been thinking about IVF or surrogacy or motherhood. Which is weird because I was definitely getting to “at least ninety per cent ready” territory. But then he walked into the café, and it’s just been lovely. I mean, it’s a bit different now, though, because …’

‘Crap sex.’

‘Crap. Sex. And so maybe he’ll run a mile embarrassed, or maybe I want to run a mile embarrassed. And I mean, it’s too early to tell him about the whole can’t-carry-kids-myself thing, or even that if in some crazy world where we end up together we actually couldn’t have his kids. I’d be stupid to bring that up two weeks in. But yeah. It feels different with him, worth pausing the constant shall-I-or-shan’t-I “do it now” question I keep asking myself. I’ve got nothing to lose by seeing where this goes …’

‘Have you heard from him today?’

‘He texted this morning to say he hoped I had a good day, but to be honest we’d normally have called one another as we prepped at work, so something is already different.’

‘Text him right now,’ Sharon instructed. ‘Don’t sit and wonder. If you think your ego is bruised then honestly, try being a man. A disappointing lay to you is upsetting, but to a man who needs his testosterone to validate his masculinity? Devastating.’