As Alice and I raced back and forth emptying the dining room, scrubbing the bits that showed and debating whether to go with crockery that almost matched, or to embrace the situation with as random a set as we could put together, Becky held court on the patio outside, lit up by a couple of lanterns Daniel found in the garage and the new living room candles. As the group huddled amongst the weeds around a hastily repurposed side-table, she spouted forth the kind of spontaneous nonsense that had won her salesperson of the year six years in a row.

Pausing to duck her head back inside, Becky accurately assessed the situation as nowhere near ready and announced to the group that they would now be able to take a tour of the orchard and see the apple trees for themselves.

‘What, this cider was made from apples grown here, on this farm?’ I heard the endless-scarf woman ask, as I opened the dining room window to try to let the stench of mildew out.

‘You can’t seriously expect us to go trooping round the filthy countryside in the pitch dark?’ the second man, Simon, said, his voice dripping with derision.

‘Oh, come on man, where’s your spirit of adventure?’ Stephe chortled. ‘We can trust Becky, she’s an expert, after all!’

‘Oh my goodness, Simon, are you in need of a top-up, let me rectify that for you immediately!’ Becky trilled, sloshing another ladle of cider into his mug. ‘Come on, someone grab that other lantern and please, do listen out for the ghost of the Damson Damsel. Don’t forget to bring your drinks with you!’

I don’t know what she did with them, but when they returned nearly an hour later, stiff with cold, designer boots encrusted with mud, cheeks aglow, they seemed in a far better mood than when they’d left.

‘Right, then, dinner will be served at seven-thirty. Take your time freshening up. We’ll see you in the living room for pre-drinks when you’re ready.’

‘Forty minutes?’ I whispered. ‘To prepare a three-course meal from scratch?’

Becky gaped at me. ‘You haven’t started cooking?’

‘We’ve been cleaning, tidying, trying to find five wine glasses that aren’t chipped and enough towels without holes in and a million other things that needed doing. Alice’s been decanting shower gel and shampoo into old jam jars and making fancy labels out of chopped up birthday cards.’

‘Well, we’d better get cooking, then, hadn’t we?’

I grabbed her arm before she marched into the kitchen. ‘This is amazing, Becky. We’ve been friends for less than five hours and I completely love you already, but you don’t have to stay. Alice works in the pub, she’s going to act as server for me.’

Becky glanced over at Alice, her brow furrowed. ‘I’ve never seen you in the pub,’ she said, all trace of perky saleswoman Becky vanished.

Alice nodded, stopping ironing a napkin to stick her hands on her hips. ‘I’ve never seen you in the Boatman.’