‘And I thought, “Oh, that old chestnut.” Anyway I went’ — she laughs again — ‘and the next morning I had a cover shoot. I looked at him and thought, “You’re the father of my kids.” I had an absolute certainty that I’ve never had about anything before. They are looked after by French nannies and will be educated half in French, as Jacqui speaks it fluently and so do the older boys, since Madonna raised them that way, too.
Guy Ritchie is in an armchair, as relaxed as any man has ever been, handing me a glass of damson gin, finding out I’m from York and launching straight into a conversation about its medieval massacre of Jews — ‘the darkest day for British Jewry,’ quoting a history book he’s just read.
His wife is outside, standing topless in a lake in the pouring rain for our photo shoot, speaking Hebrew to the make-up artist, while her mum, who clearly runs things, is looking after the small Ritchie children, despite having her arm in a sling from dancing too hard at the wedding (I thought she said driving accident — ‘No, jiving accident’).
’ Months later, both single, they finally went on their first date, by which point they had been emailing and texting ‘30 to 40 times a day’.
Sorry, ’ — she clicks her fingers — ‘you know they’re not playing a game.
Their posh drunk neighbour is hanging out, too, making repeated attempts to dive into my midriff for a cuddle, with Jacqui, 33, and Guy, 47, shouting and laughing, ‘Get off her, she’s come to do an interview,’ before we all pile into Land Rovers, with Jacqui ‘doing a Britney’, driving with a toddler on her lap.