‘I’m not sure you do, Ruby, because I don’t.’ Lightly, he grasped my wrist between strong fingers, and I resisted the impulse to pull it back.

‘It’s been so hard, really challenging, this bit of parenting and I’m worried about the poor kid.’ Were those actual tears I saw in his eyes? ‘Like, really worried. I never thought this would happen to Willow.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I started. ‘What is it that—?’

Bang bang bang! We both jumped this time.

Two women stood on the pavement outside, one waving through the steamy window at us.

Nella. I did snatch my hand away now, quickly and belatedly.

But Marcus only smiled, gesturing at the door for them to join us.

Draining my coffee, I looked for my bag; caught on my chair leg. I fumbled helplessly until, too late, she was at the table.

‘There you both are!’ As if it was the most normal thing in the world. She was immaculate in her own royal blue gym gear: Lululemon no doubt, or Sweaty Betty. Her bum-sculpting leggings left absolutely nothing to anyone’s imagination and were probably more expensive than my whole outfit.

Another smiling woman followed, shaking rain from her dark curls. She was sturdy where Nella was slim and was dressed in electric orange gym gear.

‘Nella! We just… I was just…’ To my annoyance, I found myself stammering. ‘Getting out of the rain, you know,’ I finished lamely.

‘He’s like a homing pigeon, Rudi. Can’t get enough of the Portuguese tarts, can you, sweetie?’

‘Ah, you know me so well, my angel.’ Marcus’s hand touched his wife’s thigh; curiously intimate. ‘Lena, gorgeous as ever! How you doing?’

I winced at the worst Friends impression I’d ever heard.

‘OK, thanks, darl,’ Lena replied, her accent strong and Australian. ‘All the better for burning at least twenty calories off on a treadmill and getting away from my son for an hour.’ She grinned down at us. ‘Joking, like, obvs!’

‘Oh, ha, yeah I know the feeling.’ I didn’t think she was joking though. ‘And, um, thank you so much for last night, Nella.’ I hoped I sounded more earnest than I felt. ‘Can’t wait to get involved with the street party.’

‘You’re more than welcome, darling. Good gosh, that class was so intense, I sweated a pint. Macchiato please, Dores,’ she called across the café in that authoritative way upper-class people have, pronouncing the waitress’s name so authentically, I stifled a laugh. ‘What do you fancy, Lena?’

‘All good, thanks, mate.’ Lena waved a water bottle. ‘I’ve sworn off coffee for a bit, since all the broken nights.’

‘You girls have met, have you?’ Marcus looked from Lena to me.

‘Oh, how rude!’ Horrified, Nella held a hand to her chest, which read Come back to yourself in swirly font. ‘Lena, so sorry – this is Rudi. She’s a great friend of Melissa’s, my PT from the gym. If you’d managed to make it to street party planning’ – the remark was expertly pointed at Lena, like a small missile – ‘you’d have met last night.’