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‘True. But it would be funny, wouldn’t it? The community midwife not knowing she’s pregnant.’

‘Hilarious.’

‘So, if you’re not pregnant, what’s the rush?’

‘We don’t really want to wait – neither of us are going to change our minds, and we want Sylvie to be as fit as possible to celebrate with us.’

‘Oh. Sorry. I should have thought of that.’

Mia squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘Nothing to apologise for. I’m glad it’s not something you have to think about.’

‘Love you, Mimi.’

‘Love you too, Kitikat.’

‘Bloody hate you as well right now. Twelve weeks. Twelve festering weeks!’

‘Almost thirteen.’

‘It’s not even long enough to order a wedding dress!’

‘I can wear off the rack.’

‘Like bat dung you will! We’re coming back to that. But what about a venue? A band? Caterers? What about the wedding cake?’

‘Obviously Aiden wants to bake our wedding cake. Music we can play ourselves if we need to, and Aiden and I agree that when we get married is more important than where.’

‘That’s really sweet. But twelve weeks!’

‘You have mentioned that a few times. And it’s basically thirteen.’

‘I know. But it’s Only. Three. Months.’ Katie flopped back dramatically, her folder spilling onto the floor. ‘There’s so much to do. This was supposed to be fun. I was going to help you plan this epic wedding like you deserve. It was going to be beautiful with a spectacular theme so stunning that people talked about it for years!’

‘It can still be all those things. And magical, given that I’m finally awake to it.’

‘In three months?’

‘It’s going to be OK, Katie. All Aiden and I want is to get married. Couple of rings, someone to do a blessing, somewhere to dance and celebrate with all our friends and family, and then we can start our happy ever after together. You will still help me, won’t you? I still need you as my chief bridesmaid and best woman.’

Katie glared at her. ‘Of course I will. That was never in question. But can I please have a few more minutes to grumble?’

‘Sorry.’ Mia giggled. ‘Grumble away.’

Katie glared at her friend. ‘Twelve weeks!’

‘Basically thirteen.’

‘Shut up.’ Katie threw a pillow at her and buried her face in another one, groaning.

* * *

Amrita grinned when Sylvie showed her to the door, a lot less wobbly than a few weeks ago – especially impressive given how hard she’d worked already. ‘It was a good session. You did really well.’

‘Now we have a date for my son’s wedding, I have a target to work to. And you did promise me lunch next time.’

‘Aloo tiki chaat. I remember.’

‘Which you said is the Punjabi equivalent of a baked-bean spud.’