‘Oh, I am. I really like it. I mean it’s way more pressurised than I expected – I think I was imagining us all drifting about reading books and discussing literature, and it’s not like that at all, but – yeah.’ I nod. ‘I feel like I’ve found my feet a bit. It helps that a couple of new people have started, so I’m not the new girl any more. And Jav’s lovely.’

‘You should invite her round sometime. We could have a house party. A housewarming. My God, why haven’t we had a proper housewarming?’ Becky says.

‘Because we’re only ever all in the same place at once about twice a month, and that’s usually a Saturday lunchtime?’

‘Oh. Yeah. That.’ Becky flips through the pages of one of Emma’s magazines. She buys them all – Vogue, Marie Claire, Tatler . . .

‘Look, there’s a launch for Nigella Lawson’s latest book. Why aren’t you going to stuff like that?’

‘Because I work for a tiny publisher who mostly does romance, and we don’t do stuff like that.’

‘You should. You’d get loads of publicity. And I’d get to meet—’ she peers at the photographs on the social pages of Tatler ‘—Robert Pattinson. D’you think he sparkles in real life?’

‘I do not. And your sad Twilight addiction needs to be addressed. I saw you’d been watching the whole series again on Netflix.’

‘It’s comfort watching. I’m mega stressed with work. There’s a load of exams coming up.’

‘More exams? I thought you were finished with all that.’

‘No, these are different exams. Professional development stuff. It’s never-ending.’

‘Weird to think of Alex doing all that,’ I say, casually.

Becky curls her feet up underneath her. ‘Alex? He was really good. Got one of the best degrees in our year, I think. Everyone’s still stunned he gave it up.’

‘He seems to really like nursing though,’ I say, and I wonder how he’s getting on with his new placement. He’s moved on to a new one now, working in a retirement home on Primrose Hill.

‘You know he’d be getting married this weekend?’

‘Oh of course,’ I say, remembering Alex mentioning it the other week, but it hadn’t really sunk in.

She reaches across to the coffee table and takes one of the chocolates that Rob left there last night with a Post-it Note saying ‘help yourself’. She indicates the box with her head. ‘Want one?’

‘No thanks,’ I say, trying to imagine scruffy, laid-back Alex buttoned up in a suit and tie, watching the mythical Alice walk up the aisle towards him. ‘What was she like?’ I ask.