She looks absolutely gorgeous. The dress looks even better on her than it did in the magazine, and it goes in and out in exactly the right places.

‘If you’re not pregnant by the time your wedding day comes, that dress ought to do it,’ says Gen, giving a filthy wolf whistle that earns her an even filthier look from the owner of the bridal shop. I shoot Gen the sort of look that hopefully says shut up.

‘Well,’ says Gen, defensively. ‘You are trying to get up the duff, aren’t you?’

Sophie gives her a steely look and says nothing. She’s so stressed out at the moment, even by Sophie standards.

‘I thought we were here to try on bridesmaid dresses,’ Gen says looking aggrieved.

‘We’re just going to take some measurements now, madam.’ Bob-woman unrolls a measuring tape and approaches Gen. Gen, being an old hand at costume measurements for the stage, holds out a hand, palm flat in a STOP gesture. ‘I can tell you mine right now,’ she says, parroting them off instantly. The woman inclines her head, looking slightly mollified. I lift my arms up as she measures my bust, waist and hips, feeling like I’m getting measured for school uniform. Sophie dismounts from the low stool she’s been standing on and sashays off to get changed with the aid of the tea-making girl.

Afterwards we go to the cinema then for a drink. Sophie sneaks a look at her phone before, during and after the film to see if Rich has been in touch.

‘Have you two had a fight or something?’

‘He’s just being an arse,’ says Sophie. She plaits her long hair down one shoulder, which is what she’s always done when she’s feeling anxious, so I know there’s something going on.

‘What’s up?’ Gen cocks her head sideways. She might be loud and boisterous but she’s a good person to have on your side. ‘Do you need us to go and rough him up a bit?’

Sophie laughs. ‘No. He’s just – it’s just – well, it’s been seven months now and I’m still not pregnant.’

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.’