Andrea stood up. ‘I’m just going to the bathroom,’ she said, acknowledging Kelly’s sympathetic look with a small nod of her head.

In the bathroom, she stood side-on in front of the mirror and eyed her belly. She’d been enjoying herself, grazing from a shared cheese platter with her drinks and hadn’t noticed that her stomach had become bloated. Obviously, something she’d eaten wasn’t agreeing with her. She tugged at her top, pulling the material tight and then ran one hand gently around her stomach. With her small frame, any bloating really did make her look pregnant. Usually it didn’t bother her and for a moment she wondered if she’d overreacted, but then Kelly came barging through the door after her. She quickly dropped her hands and turned to face Kelly.

‘Fucking Greg,’ Kelly said. ‘He is the king of putting his foot in it. Are you okay?’

Andrea smiled. ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ She paused. ‘I know you’re probably thinking that maybe I can’t have them or that I’m self-conscious about my body but honestly, I’m not and —’

Kelly cut her off. ‘No. I’m thinking that it’s no one else’s business! And more importantly — honey, you do not look pregnant to me.’

Andrea glanced down at her stomach again. Yes, she did. Kelly was being kind. But there was something so invasive about the way Greg had questioned her just now. She realised with a surge of horror that she was about to cry.

Kelly must have noticed, because she took two swift strides across the bathroom and pulled Andrea into a tight hug. ‘He’s a dick,’ she said. ‘I might go back out there and throw my drink at him.’

Andrea gave a half-laugh, half-cry. ‘No don’t,’ she said. ‘It’ll be a waste of a perfectly good merlot.’

They pulled apart and Andrea wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her top. ‘You know what’s stupid?’ she asked.

‘What’s that, honey?’

‘It’s that Tony and I decided not to have kids, right? And I was pretty much okay with that. But the thing is, part of me always thought we might revisit it. A part of me always thought one day, he’ll sit down and ask me why? He’ll say, “Andrea, why don’t you want to have kids?” And then I’d spill it all. Everything about my fears of not turning out like my mother, and then . . . and then . . .’ She stopped and stared at Kelly. ‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe I just started blurting all that stuff out at you. I’m so sorry. I think I’ve had too many drinks.’