‘Seems like a lifetime ago,’ Mike coughs, visibly resisting the desire to reach out and touch the words that connect them. He hangs the dungarees he’s holding over his shoulder and reaches for his tea, the third we’ve had since arriving. His eyebrows knit together as he takes a sip. His lips twitch.

‘She looked ethereal, otherworldly in this,’ I say, my fingers itching to get out the beautiful Stephanie Allin dress her mum, Zaza and I had all gone to help her pick. Needless to say she looked gorgeous in every single one, but as soon as she stepped out of the dressing room in this one – with its delicately plunging neckline, organza skirt and a stunning design of laced meadow flowers cascading down her arms and body, as though she were Mother Nature herself, we knew this was the one. Not only was it the most wonderful dress, but she lit up when she was in it. It heightened who she was. It drew out all of the goodness that my dear friend possessed.

My hand rests on the box, over her writing, wanting its contents to remain as perfectly placed as she’s left it.

‘Remember that the caterers cancelled the night before thanks to a double booking?’ Mike asks behind me.

‘Yes!’ laughs Zaza. ‘Pia made us stay up all night making endless curries, saag paneer, samosas and chutney.’

‘You’re forgetting the matzo brei, fried gefilte fish, challah, tahdig, kibbeh … There was so much food.’ I chuckle with a sniff thanks to my now running nose, remembering being rushed to Tesco with a huge list of ingredients to source.

‘I still say she planned the whole thing,’ says Mike, an eyebrow raised as he drains his tea and puts down his mug. ‘Pretty convenient that her mum had popped in to see us at the very moment we got the call – and once my mum got wind of what was going on it was as though all her dreams had come true. In she hustled, ready to use the coffee table as her creation station.’

‘A real culture mash-up!’ exclaims Zaza.

‘Never known a feast like it,’ I say, remembering the collection of flavours that had been passed down through the generations to help celebrate that special day. The fact it wasn’t planned and rather had been done out of necessity made it even more perfect.

‘What else do you expect from our mums?’ laughs Mike. ‘They’d been training their whole lives for a moment like that to occur.’

He looks back at the box beside me. No longer able to resist he picks it up and puts it back where I found it. The dress isn’t going anywhere. He stays facing the cupboard and takes a breath before going back to the dungarees over his shoulder and deciding their fate.