‘Welcome to real life where stepping away from your responsibilities requires lots more preparation and forward thinking,’ says Mike.

‘But we should do it,’ I say, loving Vicky’s enthusiasm even if it might be fuelled by alcohol consumption, and the fact that Mike looks like he’s warming to the idea. ‘Let’s adopt the let’s-just-go motto and go somewhere. There will always be excuses for us not to do something, but a million reasons why we should. Ten days must be doable for us all … or two weeks? I should have no trouble getting time off work,’ I say, aware that, all being well, I’ll need a chunk of time off next year for the wedding and honeymoon, but they shouldn’t fall within the same work year. ‘I can ask first thing.’

‘I’m sure my mum and dad or Nick’s mum would love an excuse to spoil the kids for a bit …’ reasons Vicky, beaming at the possibility.

Vicky and I both turn to Mike expectantly.

His eyes travel back down to the paper. ‘Fuck it,’ he whispers, his mouth unable to resist the deliciousness of a smile.

Vicky bangs on the table defiantly. ‘That’s the spirit.’

‘Let’s raise a glass to it before any of us can back out,’ I say, holding my wine out in front of me.

‘To let’s-just-go in a sensible fashion!’ Vicky sings, banging her glass into mine.

‘Hear, hear,’ smiles Mike, holding out his beer bottle for us to toast against.

‘Should we have a little look at where we could go?’ Vicky asks.

She’s up on her feet before we can even give her an answer, retrieving her laptop from across the room and running back over with it. She dives back into her seat with a wobble before flipping open the screen and bringing up Safari.

‘The Sahara is meant to be stunning,’ suggests Mike, having taken a deep breath.

‘That’s a lot of sand and I’m afraid, when it comes to sand, I’m only interested in the beach variety and enjoying it with a cocktail in hand,’ I state unapologetically before taking a huge gulp of my wine.

‘The Himalayas is meant to be enlightening and spiritual,’ says Vicky as she types, images of trekkers surrounded by snowy mountains appearing on her screen. ‘Cold …’ she observes, her nose crinkling.

‘Are you hoping to join Za on her beach?’ Mike laughs. ‘Are you two sure you’re up for roughing it and trekking? It’s not glamorous, you know.’

‘Erm, excuse me. No need to talk to me about roughing it, my life is made up of events involving poo, wee, sick and tears. My standards are pretty low to start with.’

‘Mine not so much,’ I admit. ‘But I think I’ll cope without a fresh towel for a week.’