I shake my head. ‘He’d never live anywhere too shabby. You know what he’s like, such a fuss-pants about things. We once rented an Airbnb in Paris. It was immaculate – really lovely. But Andy got it into his head that there was a lingering cheese smell in the fridge. Honestly, the moaning that went on, the perpetual opening and closing of the door and the endless sniffing. It drove me crazy. I couldn’t smell a thing. But he has a thing about odours, a hypersensitive nose—’

Penny smirks. ‘Isn’t that a bit of hindrance for a doctor?’

‘Not really. He’s an endocrinologist, remember. It’s all about hormonal issues, thyroid disorders, that kind of stuff. He never has to do anything murky—’

‘What about tests? Doesn’t he have to take samples, swabs, that sort of thing?’

‘No, he has other people to do that for him.’

‘Well, that doesn’t seem fair,’ she declares, and I smile. Penny is attracted to decidedly un-fussy men; artists or odd-job-types who live in ropey flats with cats constantly meandering in and out or, in the case of Hamish, a composer who lives on a narrowboat on the canal. ‘So he never had any gruesome stories to tell you?’ she asks.

‘No, never. That’s the thing about living with a doctor. You imagine you’ll hear all kinds of juicy stuff, but all you get are gripes about the fact that the canteen staff aren’t allowed to sell buttered scones anymore, so he has to buy an unbuttered scone and a tiny foil-wrapped pat of butter that’s too hard to spread. Christ, the moaning I had to endure about that—’

‘Outrageous,’ she snorts, ‘a man of Andy’s standing, having to spread his own butter …’

‘And it wasn’t just that,’ I continue. ‘When the new car park system was introduced, staff spaces weren’t quite as near to the hospital entrance as they used to be. Honestly, you’d have thought the world had ended.’

‘How ridiculous.’

I nod, enjoying offloading to my friend. It sounds trite, but remembering Andy’s bad points always makes me feel mildly better about my current situation. ‘Then there was the Great Decline in Toilet Paper Quality of 2017, and then they made the dramatic switch from plastic cups at the water cooler to cardboard cones …’

‘He moaned about that?’

‘Yes! You’d think he’d have supported the decision to ditch single-use plastic, but no …’

‘Oh, Viv,’ she announces, ‘you’re well rid of that man—’ As if to emphasise her strength of feeling she bites down hard on her pastry, forcing the cream to jet out in a dramatic spurt.

‘Penny!’ I exclaim, reeling back as a few specks hit me.

‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry, what a mess.’ She snatches my paper napkin and tries to dab at my chest.