Most importantly, though, I got to do one of my favourite things—spend time with my sister.

She is one of the very few people on the planet who I can be myself with—completely myself. Sometimes I’m brilliant, funny, and brave, but mostly I’m a bit of a dork who loves photos of cats sleeping in weird places and can tie a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue. That last thing is a party trick I cultivated at uni, and it’s never failed to impress my audience, especially if it’s an audience of one. I’ll just leave it at that.

We went shoe shopping on the Saturday morning, and I found a gorgeous pair for my date with James. They were cherry-red, suede heeled sandals with a fringe across the top of the foot, and I’d hit the jackpot. They were beautiful and I could walk in them. They also matched the red hues of my sunset dress. Cat’s evening bag was a large fuchsia clutch and she was right, it completed the look perfectly.

She was also right about the toothbrush and knickers part. I had no idea how the night with James was going to end, but why not be prepared, right? I borrowed a small makeup bag from Cat and packed it with a G-string, my toothbrush, some moisturiser, concealer, and lip balm. I tucked it into the corner of the clutch and added the usual going-out paraphernalia—lipstick, tissues, my phone, and a credit card.

Before she left for the pub quiz, Cat came through with a very sexy up-do. Magically, it looked like I’d scooped up my curls and piled them on top of my head, then pinned them with a single hairpin—implying that my up-do could be undone and shaken loose in one fell swoop, just like in old Hollywood films. She’s clever like that.

I, however, was not the sort of woman who could pull off a move like that. Also, my hair actually had twenty-five hairpins in it, so even if I tried to shake it free, I’d end up looking like Tippy Hedren in The Birds.

James was sending a car for me at 8:00pm, another reminder that he was wealthy and sophisticated, and I was about to step, once again, into an unfamiliar world.

At ten minutes to eight, I locked up Cat’s flat and took the elevator to the lobby. The driver was supposed to call when he arrived, but I was so nervous, I’d been pacing a hole in the carpet of Cat’s hallway since 7:40. I figured a change of scenery was in order and, if needed, that the lobby was long enough for some advanced pacing.

The nerves were nothing new to me. I was prone to bouts of nervousness, but sometimes the nerves became full-blown anxiety. It was that tipping point I was hoping to avoid by heading to the lobby. Being nervous was one thing, but when you’re having an anxiety attack, it doesn’t matter that your mind knows there’s no real reason for your survival instincts to be activated. You’re in it and you have to ride it out.