‘I’ll never be bored with you, my love. I just sometimes get a bit bored with life in grey old London, with its endless depressing news, when everybody else seems to be having so much fun, in such exotic places. Bloody Facebook.’

‘You spend far more time on that site than is healthy, my darling. And let’s look at it mathematically: you have – what? – 350-odd Facebook “friends”?’ Andy did the inverted commas fingers signal and Bella nodded, slightly shamefaced.

‘Most of us go on holiday at least once a year, so let’s divide that by twelve.’

‘Um – nearly thirty people on holiday every month?’

‘Exactly! It may look as if everyone is having the times of their lives on beaches or mountains, while we’re stuck in dreary old London, but it’s a snare and a delusion. We were in Ibiza only a couple of months ago, after all.’

‘Oh, I know, I know, I’m being horribly spoilt.’ Bella sighed and took another swig of her wine. ‘But Poppy IS getting her huge bite of the Big Apple, even during this horrid recession. I don’t know why I can’t be more pleased for her.’ In the old days she’d have been happy, unreservedly, for Poppy, but ever since the Ben thing, something sour had crept in. She had loved helping her plan the wedding, and the nuptials themselves had been wonderful, of course, but this new, extra level of success was a little galling.

Six weeks earlier, three weeks after Poppy and Damian had returned from their honeymoon in Cuba, Stadium had folded, the latest victim of the recession. Simon Snell had immediately found another job on Esquire, but Poppy had put a spanner in Damian’s job-seeking by simultaneously being offered a promotion in New York. And it wasn’t just any old promotion. One of her company’s proper big shots had been visiting from New York, taken one look at Poppy and decided that she was wasted behind the camera. With her gamine beauty, quick-wittedness and sarcastic London cool, the Big Shot was hoping Poppy would be the new Alexa Chung, presenting a quirky magazine/documentary-type show – an English girl’s take on the Big Apple.

Damian, not wanting to be apart from his new wife so early in their marriage (and, Bella thought, probably still not entirely trusting her, left to her own devices in an exciting new city), had bravely decided to take his chances at freelancing in New York. Stadium had left him with plenty of contacts, after all.

‘I hope Damian’s getting on OK,’ said Andy, and Bella grimaced.

‘Not much good for his ego if he’s not.’

‘No,’ said Andy. ‘And we both know what his professional ego can be like when wounded. So enough of the Poppy jealousy, OK? Would you want to be in her shoes, constantly reassuring Damian that he’s cleverer than her, while he mopes about, sulking all day, in what I imagine is their vast warehouse apartment?’

Bella laughed. ‘That’s such a vivid image! S’pose not.’ She was smiling broadly now, as Andy’s foot, which had been rubbing her leg all night, had made its way up to her knickers.