We both fall silent for a moment. I think of Sophie at primary school, her pencil case filled with neatly sharpened coloured pencils, ruler and strawberry-scented eraser, writing her name neatly at the top of her exercise book. Meanwhile, Gen and I would be scrabbling around at our desks, trying to find a pencil sharpener and rummaging in our bags for our crumpled, half-finished homework.

‘She’s just – naturally organised,’ I conclude.

‘It just feels like our ski trip was the last hurrah,’ Gen says, looking a bit sad. ‘I don’t want to grow up.’

‘Don’t worry, Peter Pan.’ I reach over and squeeze her hand. ‘I’m always here to make you feel like a normal, functioning adult. I can’t even manage to get relationships right.’

Speak of the devil, Sophie messages us a moment later, asking if we want to meet up on the South Bank for a drink later on – her treat.

‘I need a bit of moral support,’ she explains when we meet her a couple of hours later, shifting out of the way so the waiter can put our drinks down. ‘Thanks,’ she says, with a smile. The bar looks out over the Thames. We’re protected from the still-cold spring weather by a wall of glass, but we can watch the people scurrying about like ants on the Embankment. I gaze out of the window for a moment, but Sophie gives a large sigh, drawing my attention back to her.

‘What’s up?’ Gen puts her chin in her hand.

‘Well, I’m not pregnant, that’s what’s up.’

I don’t know a whole lot about trying to get pregnant. To be honest, I’ve spent the last decade trying to avoid it. The way we’re taught at school, you’d think you just had to sit on the same sofa as a man to end up up the duff, so the idea that it’s a bit of a challenge is news to me.

‘You’ve had two goes,’ says Gen, trying to be consoling. It’s never been her strong point. ‘I think it probably takes more than that. Look at all those people that have years of IVF.’

I spin my head round and give her A Look.

Sophie gives a wail. ‘Oh my God, what if that happens to me?’

‘I’m sure it won’t,’ I say, reassuringly. ‘I think you probably just need to not stress about it. And have sex lots.’

‘I have been. Rich says he’s feeling a bit worn out. And I’m bloody exhausted. I fell asleep at work the other day.’

‘That might be a sign you need to cool it a bit. Maybe focus on the wedding stuff instead?’ Gen flicks a glance in my direction. ‘Have you got any ideas for our dresses yet?’

Sophie shakes her head. ‘We haven’t actually made it official yet.’ She waves a naked left hand.

‘You’re not getting married?’

She shakes her head vigorously. ‘Oh we are, it’s just we haven’t had the official Will You Marry Me bit.’