I look at Gen. I’ve never really contemplated that sort of thing, so I’ve no idea how long it normally takes. Like I said, we were brought up to believe getting pregnant happened the second you went anywhere near a male person. Maybe those sex education classes weren’t completely accurate.

‘Seven months isn’t that long,’ says Gen, kindly. ‘I read somewhere it can take the average person twelve months to get pregnant. Plus, you’re stressing about it, and the wedding stuff, and work, and you’ve got the flat on the market. I mean basically all you need to do is have a bereavement and you’ve ticked off the four most stressful things a person can do.’

‘I know.’ Sophie sighs. ‘I can’t even get Rich to agree to a wedding date.’

Gen shoots me a sideways look. ‘You don’t mean . . .’

Sophie shakes her head. ‘He’s had this idea that he doesn’t want a big fuss.’

I can feel my eyes widening into saucer shapes. Sophie’s basically been planning her wedding since she was about nine.

‘And how do you feel about that?’

I’m surprised when she shrugs. ‘I dunno, actually. You know when you’ve always had your mind set on an idea, then someone comes along and says something and you realise that actually . . .’ She tails off, taking a sip of her drink through a straw and gazing out of the window.

Gen glances over at me and subtly raises an eyebrow.

‘Well, there’s no need to think about any of that stuff right now.’

Sophie gives a gusty sigh. ‘It’s like telling someone not to think of a pink elephant,’ she says. ‘What’s the first thing you think of?’

‘All right. So we’ll have to distract you. We just have to find you a project,’ I say.

I go to the loo and when I get back I’m pleased to see Gen and Sophie are laughing about something and Sophie looks happier than she has done in ages. I head home once I finish my drink, because I’ve got plans to hang out with Becky tomorrow morning, and we agree to meet up for lunch on Wednesday.

Back at Albany Road, the house is surprisingly quiet. There’s usually someone pootling around the kitchen making toast or curled up on the sofa watching television, but it’s completely deserted. Alex’s hoody is hanging on the end of the banister. It’s weird that I have barely seen him since the day Alice turned up. Except I have to remind myself it is completely not-weird. Alex is just a friend. A housemate. But since his finger touched the side of mine, I’ve managed to reignite the world’s biggest and most ridiculously unrequited crush. I need to get a grip. Plus he’s probably back with Alice.