‘I thought maybe it was, you know—’ She hesitates for a bit. ‘Alice. The wedding?’

I shake my head. ‘No,’ I say firmly. ‘Definitely not that.’

We turn the corner and get onto Albany Road. One of the kids from the house two doors down has set up a lemonade stall. They’ve got a table out on the pavement, and a stack of paper cups. A sign says, Lemonade £4 a cup.

‘Bloody hell,’ I say under my breath to Jess. ‘Definitely London prices.’

One of the children looks up at me. She’s got light brown hair and very piercing bright blue eyes. ‘The lemons are organic, and the sugar.’

‘Of course they are,’ says Jess, snorting with laughter. Only in Notting Hill. ‘I’m really sorry, I haven’t got any money on me.’

‘That’s okay,’ says the smaller of the two children. ‘We’re going to make some more so you can come back later.’

When we’re out of earshot and walking up the steps to our house, we both burst out laughing.

‘Well, you’ve got to give it to them. They’re enterprising.’

‘Those kids’ school fees probably cost more a term than I make in a year.’ Jess giggles. ‘Not surprised they’re enterprising. Their dad’ll own half the property in Notting Hill. He’s a private landlord.’

We’re still laughing when the front door opens. I thought Emma had gone home, but she’s there, with a look on her face that I can’t read. I open my mouth to say hello and then close it again.

Despite Emma’s cool welcome, I can’t help noticing that the house smells warm and fragrant with spices. There’s a sizzling noise coming from the kitchen. And over that, I can hear the sound of Rob singing as he cooks something amazing.

I walk down the hall and into the kitchen.

‘All right, you two?’ Rob looks up, wooden spoon in hand, an apron tied round his waist. He looks in his element, and he’s beaming happily, a bottle of white wine half drunk beside the hob.

The back door’s open, and light from the little garden is spilling into the kitchen. I can see the overgrown vines hanging over the doorway, and the light dappling through the leaves. It looks pretty idyllic – the perfect day for a lazy, sunny afternoon in the garden. We’ve hardly used it so far – mainly because it’s so overgrown that none of us know where to start.

‘Gorgeous day, isn’t it?’ says Emma from behind us, in her smooth, deep voice. She’s looking at me curiously. I step out of the way to let her and Jess through.

‘We should have Pimm’s on a day like this. I bet there’s mint in the garden. Have you looked?’ Jess says. She clearly hasn’t picked up on the weird atmosphere.