I put the invitation into my bag and snap the clasp shut, feeling slightly sick.

So this is it. New York it is.

Mum will understand. When I tell her all about it properly, she’ll come round. She has to.

Antoine’s new mandarin and lychee cake is fabulous. But somehow, as I nibble at it, my appetite’s gone.

After I’ve tried several more flavours and am no nearer a decision, Antoine and Robyn exchange looks and suggest I probably need time to think. So with one last sugar rose for my purse, I say goodbye and head to Barneys, where I deal with all my clients perfectly pleasantly, as though nothing’s on my mind.

But all the time I’m thinking about the call I’ve got to make. About how I’m going to break the news to Mum. About how I’m going to explain to Mum.

I won’t say anything as strong as I definitely want to get married in the Plaza. Not initially. I’ll just tell her that it’s there as a possibility, if we both want it. That’s the key phrase. If we both want it.

The truth is, I didn’t present it properly to her before. She’ll probably leap at the chance once I explain it all to her fully. Once I tell her about the enchanted forest and the string orchestra, and the dance band and the thousand-dollar cake. A lovely luxury wedding, all expenses paid! I mean, who wouldn’t leap at it?

But I feel sick with nerves as I climb the stairs to our apartment. I know I’m not being honest with myself. I know what Mum really wants.

I also know that if I make enough fuss, she’ll do anything I ask her.

I close the door behind me and take a deep breath. Two seconds later, the doorbell rings and I jump with fright. God, I’m on edge at the moment.

‘Hi,’ I say, opening the door. ‘Oh, Danny, it’s you. Listen, I need to make quite an important phone call. So if you wouldn’t mind–’

‘OK, I have to ask you a favour,’ he says, coming into the apartment and completely ignoring what I’ve just said.

‘What is it?’

‘Randall’s been giving me some pressure. He’s like, where exactly do you sell your clothes? Who exactly are your customers? Do you have a business plan? So I’m like, of course I have a business plan, Randall. I’m planning to buy up Coca-Cola next year, what do you think?’

‘Danny–’

‘So then he starts saying if I don’t have any genuine client base I should give up and he’s not going to subsidize me any more. He used the word subsidize! Can you believe it?’

‘Well,’ I say distractedly. ‘He does pay your rent. And he bought you all those rolls of pink suede you wanted...’

‘OK,’ says Danny after a pause. ‘OK. So the pink suede was a mistake. But Jesus! He just wouldn’t leave it alone. I told him about your dress – but he was like, Daniel, you can’t base a commercial enterprise on one customer who lives downstairs.’ Danny chews the skin on his thumb nervously. ‘So I told him I just had a big order from a department store.’

‘Really? Which one?’

‘Barneys.’

I look at him, my attention finally caught.

‘Barneys? Danny, why did you say Barneys?’

‘So you can back me up! If he asks you, you stock me, OK? And all your clients are falling over themselves to buy my stuff, you’ve never known anything like it in the history of the store.’

‘You’re mad. He’ll never fall for it. And what will you say when he wants some money?’

‘I’ll have money by then!’

‘What if he checks up? What if he goes to Barneys to look?’

‘He won’t check up,’ says Danny scornfully. ‘He only has time to talk to me once a month, let alone make unscheduled visits to Barneys. But if he meets you on the stairs, go along with my story. That’s all I’m asking.’

‘Well... all right,’ I say at last.

Honestly. As if I haven’t got enough to worry about already.

‘Danny, I really must make this call...’ I say helplessly.

‘So did you find somewhere else to live yet?’ he says, flopping down into an armchair.

‘We haven’t had time.’

‘You haven’t even thought about it?’

‘Elinor wants us to move to her building and I’ve said no. That’s as far as we’ve got.’

‘Really?’ Danny stares at me. ‘But don’t you want to stay in the Village?’

‘Of course I do! There’s no way I’m moving there.’

‘So what are you going to do?’

‘I... don’t know! I’ve just got too many other things to think about at the moment. Speaking of which–’

‘Pre-wedding stress,’ says Danny knowingly. ‘The solution is a double Martini.’ He opens up the cocktail cabinet and a sheaf of wedding-list brochures falls out onto the floor.

‘Hey!’ he says reproachfully, picking them up. ‘Did you register without me? I cannot believe that! I have been dying to register my entire life! Did you ask for a cappuccino maker?’

‘Er… yes. I tnink so–’

‘Big mistake. They’re never as good as the real thing. Listen if you ever want me to take delivery of any presents, you know I’m right upstairs...’

‘Yeah right.’ I give him a look. ‘After Christmas.’

Christmas is still a slightly sore point with me. I thought I’d be really clever and order a load of presents off the Internet. But they never arrived, so I spent Christmas Eve rushing round the shops buying replace­ments. Then on Christmas morning we went upstairs to have a drink with Danny and Randall – to find Danny sitting in the silk robe I’d bought for Elinor, eating the chocolates that were meant for Samantha at work.

‘Hey, what was I supposed to think?’ he says de­fensively. ‘It was Christmas, they were gift-wrapped... it was like, yes Daniel, there is a Santa Claus–’He reaches for the Martini bottle and sloshes some into the cocktail shaker. ‘Strong? Extra strong?’

‘Danny, I really have to make this phone call. I’ll be back in a minute.’