‘I’m not sure,’ I say, resisting the urge to shovel the last of my quiche into my mouth. Maybe if I eat like Sadie, I’ll have collarbones like her too, one day. ‘Probably some charity work? I don’t just want to sit around at home all day, I think I’ll go mad.’

‘So why not try and get another job?’ Amanda asks, as she lays her knife and fork down, half the food still left on her plate. I lay my own cutlery down, looking regretfully at the last piece of quiche on the serving plate. Mags and I would have split it, and the thought of collarbones wouldn’t have even crossed my mind.

‘Well, I did think maybe I could, but Rupert doesn’t seem too keen. He’s quite insistent that he’s happy for me to stay home and look after him. I’m just not sure that I would be cut out for it.’

‘I bet,’ Amanda says. ‘Caro would never have stayed home like a good little wifey.’

‘I suppose it’s a bit different now you have someone in to do all that stuff for you. And even if you didn’t, it’s not like you’d still be getting paid to do it,’ Sadie says, her voice edged with something I can’t place. Before I can think of the best way to reply, she speaks again. ‘Emily, you have to do what’s right for the two of you. Although I do think that charity work might be a good thing for you – it’ll keep you busy, but you can still be about for Rupert, if that’s what he wants.’

Amanda snorts and reaches for the half-empty bottle of rosé on the table. ‘Well, if Rupert isn’t happy about you going out to a full-time job – although honestly, Emily, I wouldn’t let Will dictate to me like that – charity work is better than nothing, I suppose. Caro did charity work, so I don’t really see how Rupert can be against you doing something similar. Until you have a baby, at least.’

Heat creeps up my neck and I feel a blush stain my cheeks as I open and close my mouth uselessly, the words not there when I need them. Eventually, I hold out my glass for Amanda to fill it. ‘I’m sure I’ll find something,’ I say, brushing away Amanda’s comment about babies. ‘I have plenty of time.’