‘It’s all bought and paid for. Apparently Alexander’s parents won’t get their money back if they cancel,’ I continued, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Kezza motion to the waiter to bring us another round. I pushed my empty glass to the edge of the table, shameless in my thirst. It was the Core Four who used to tease me about being too much of a ‘good girl’ to get involved in the £1 shots at The Gallery club where we spent most of our nights at uni, but even by their standards I was necking the booze ferociously tonight.

‘Try tasting the next one,’ Kezza winked. I suppressed an eye-roll. If I couldn’t get wasted now, when could I?

‘They spent so much time planning it,’ I explained, ignoring her sass, ‘that they want me to have it. Mum told them I’ve been offered to stay off work for a while—’

‘What?’ interrupted Jo, pulling a face.

‘No, no, no,’ I said, trying to abate her obvious and immediate concern. ‘Not signed off or anything like that. I had three weeks booked off anyway, for the honeymoon, and Chen, my boss, sent a letter saying to take these weeks in between as paid leave too. She called it a sort of discretionary compassionate leave. It’s really nice of her, but I wasn’t going to accept …’

‘A paid six weeks off work,’ Jo interrupted again. ‘And you’re being offered an all-expenses-paid trip to Australia from the nicest in-laws in the world to boot? Whoa.’

‘And that’s the whole thing,’ I agreed. ‘The flight leaves after the weekend, and it turns out Fernanda and Mum are in cahoots that I should do it.’

Our waiter appeared with our next drinks – more cocktails for us and a non-alcoholic beer for Jo.

‘Do you want me to take a sip out of that for you, so it’s not as full?’ Kezza asked Bri.

‘Bugger off,’ yelped Bri. ‘Don’t use me as an excuse to steal extra drink!’

Kezza pouted as she played with her fire engine red hair, pulling it back into a ponytail and wrapping it around itself until it held in a bun for a second and then slowly uncurled itself again.

‘Crazier things have happened than being offered a free honeymoon,’ observed Bri, which is true. She’d met her own husband, Angus, in Las Vegas, and came home from a week-long hen trip for a friend at work with a husband of her own. It had surprised us zero per cent, though – it was a very Bri move to pull. She’s cheeky and fun, but more than that she’s romantic enough to take a chance on love. There is a bravery to it, I’d always thought. A bravery to believing.