We’re sitting in gorgeous yellow sunshine on the little balcony of Sophie and Rich’s flat in East London, where you can almost see the canal if you lean over at a precarious angle and peer between the houses in front. There’s just about enough room for the three of us, as long as we don’t try and move too fast.

‘I took your advice – can’t remember which one of you said it, but I’ve gone for the slinkiest one I could find. If that doesn’t get me pregnant, I don’t know what will.’

‘If you think that’s what makes you pregnant, it’s not surprising it’s not happened yet,’ says Gen, drily. She looks up at the magazine. ‘Ooh, very nice.’

It’s a gorgeous, dark cream dress and it will suit Sophie’s slender figure perfectly. ‘I love it,’ I agree.

‘Anyway,’ Gen says, tapping on the table with her finger, as if calling us back to order, ‘let’s get back to the task in hand. Which is get Jess a shag, in case anyone’s forgotten.’

‘Excuse me,’ I yelp. ‘I want a date. I’m not after a one-night stand.’

Sophie leans over and looks at my phone screen, where we’ve finally uploaded a decent photo to my Tinder profile, and we’re trying to work out what to put on my bio. We used Gen’s one before to look through profiles, but now I’ve – well, they’ve – decided that I need to get out there.

‘You should get a dog. I was running in the park the other morning and I saw loads of good-looking men with dogs,’ says Sophie.

‘Should you be running in your condition?’ Gen looks at her thoughtfully, tapping a pen against her teeth.

‘What condition?’ I spin round to look at Sophie. ‘Have I missed a memo?’

She shakes her head. ‘Still in the waiting period. Or hopefully not period.’

‘Yeah, but you might jog it out of place or something,’ says Gen, waving an arm, vaguely.

‘I can’t put my life on hold because I’m trying to get pregnant,’ says Sophie. ‘Anyway I’ve got a good feeling about this month. I did a headstand after sex on day fourteen.’

I glance at Gen, who looks faintly disgusted.

‘TMI,’ we both say, in unison.

‘Soz,’ says Sophie, shrugging.

There’s a For Sale sign hanging from the railings in front of us. When Soph decides she wants something, she doesn’t hang about. She’s decided she wants a wedding ring, two-point-four children, a dog, and a house in the suburbs. And by sheer force of nature (and a few headstands) she’ll get it. She always does.

Rich pops out to the balcony to kiss Sophie goodbye.

‘Just nipping up to the gym,’ he says, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. ‘See you two later.’