I know where I fall short in our relationship, and I’ve read enough books and watched enough daytime TV to be aware of the warnings, ‘if he’s not getting it at home he’s getting it elsewhere’, but none of it makes me want to throw myself on the kitchen table and wantonly do the deed.

I try not to be the jealous type. And even though I know I struggle being at home with the kids and having almost zero adult interaction, I could never let paranoia and jealousy in. It’s not how Nick and I have ever been and I don’t normally look enviously at the women he works with. There doesn’t seem to be much point.

I resist looking over at Zaza but wonder what’s got into her. Something niggles at me. For the first few years of our friendship she always had a string of boyfriends; some were complete douche bags who really hurt her, and others were pretty nice guys who seemed perfectly pleasant. The jerks left her broken and somehow returning for more, yet the nice ones had her seeing flaws we couldn’t see. She’d bemoan parts of their personality the rest of us found endearing or ‘normal’. She never seemed to stop looking beyond that decent person in her bed and keeping an eye on what else life had to offer. Not in a terrible way – she never cheated, but she was aware, always questioning what else the universe could have in store for her. That all seemed to change when Liam came into the equation, even though he was, and is, undoubtedly one of the good guys. It was as though she finally allowed herself to feel happy, or maybe his quirks were more bearable than the others’.

It’s not beyond Zaza to feel dissatisfied with what she has, even when she’s finally got something she’s longed for, and I hope the arrival of this new guy in the office isn’t causing her to doubt what she has at home.

I almost laugh at myself as those thoughts bubble in my brain. It’s like I’m forgetting my own reasons for coming out here. I haven’t been discontented with life and the way things have panned out, but I’ve definitely needed a break from it.

‘You been married long?’ the woman next to me asks. You can tell her children are older and that she hasn’t had to spend all her time focused on getting them up, fed and dressed this morning. Her blonde hair has been dried into glossy waves, her makeup is more than just a pinch of her cheeks as she rushes out the door – she actually has lipstick on, and her baby blue sleeveless shirt hasn’t got a single stain on it.

She looks at me expectantly, nodding over at Mike.