‘Definitely not. Ooh, Nanna – I’d better go. Gen’s just getting off the bus opposite. I can see her waving.’

‘Give her my love, sweetheart.’

I blow a kiss down the phone and shove it back in my bag, waving to Gen. She’s got a purple scarf wrapped around her hair and huge, ornate silver earrings that jangle and glitter in the light. I don’t know how she does it – if I dressed like her, I’d look like I’d been raiding a dressing-up box.

‘Hi,’ Gen says, kissing me on the cheek and giving me a hug. ‘Are you ready to be meringued?’

‘There’s no way she’s going to put us in something hideous.’

‘I don’t care if she does as long as she hurries up and gets here. What kind of shop is by appointment only anyway?’

‘A royal one?’ Gen hops up and down. ‘How the hell can it be this cold? It’s nearly July.’

‘It was sunny when I left the house this morning.’

‘Well it’s bloody well not now.’ Gen starts doing actual star jumps in the middle of the pavement. A little girl walks past, holding on to her mother’s hand, turning round to look as they walk away. Gen pokes her tongue out at her, making her giggle.

‘Mummy, that lady has a shiny thing on her tongue,’ I hear the girl saying in wonder as they turn the corner.

Right then – thankfully, because I’m beginning to think there’s a danger we’ll freeze to the spot – Sophie arrives. It’s not like her to be late.

‘Sorry,’ she says, shoving her phone in her bag. She pulls her cardigan tightly round her chest against the cold. ‘God it’s cold round here in the shade, isn’t it?’

‘You’re not bloody joking.’

She rings a bell and the door opens. I have to confess that I’m a sucker for a wedding dress shop. There’s something about all that tulle and sparkly stuff. Even Gen gives a little ooh of surprise.

‘This is lovely.’

‘Welcome to Briarwood Bridal.’ The woman who owns the shop is tall, with her hair cut in a severe black bob. She’s dressed in the sort of angular, expensive-looking linen stuff that designers seem to favour.

‘This place looks seriously expensive,’ Gen whispers to me, as Sophie disappears with the woman into a back room.

‘Can I get you two ladies a glass of Prosecco while you’re waiting?’

I wasn’t aware there was more waiting happening, but if there is, there might as well be Prosecco with it. I nod.

There’s a lot of rustling and we’ve almost finished our Prosecco when the severe-looking woman calls us through. Sophie – who appears to be about a foot taller than normal – is standing in the middle of the room looking pleased with herself.

‘What d’you think?’