Instead, I creep into the room and look for somewhere to sit. I don’t know why Plum is perching on the arm of the sofa, with the girls—there’s an unoccupied chair that looks incredibly comfy. Everything else in the room is repro mid-century velvet, straight from the West Elm catalogue—but this looks soft, old and cosy, covered in a charmingly tatty floral patchwork quilt. ‘So!’ I say, beaming, dropping into the cushions and anticipating a soft embrace. My knees hit my chin, and I hear a quiet crack. Was that the chair, or my jaw? I prod my face, checking for blood, while Plum, Muffy, Buffy and Amelia titter.

‘I see you’re making yourself at home on the family heirloom. You and our Louise must be very close,’ says Plum, implying, in three syllables, that we’re running drugs and guns together, or maybe we share a dark secret concerning a winter’s night and a body found in a lake. ‘How do you all know Louise?’ I ask. Socially, this is much, much more difficult and exhausting than trying to make small talk at an orgy.

‘Oh, school,’ says the one brunette, who I think might be Amelia. ‘Well, obviously not Plum! He could hardly be a Dolphin, could he?’ I’m none the wiser, but Louise’s squeaky tendencies are starting to make sense.

The blonde on the far right—Muffy, maybe?—has been looking through me, as though she is waiting for me to go away. But suddenly she snaps to attention. ‘Oh, you were the one on TV. The slut! Yeah, I’ve had loads of threesomes, but I thought you were really…’ I tilt my head, waiting to hear the word ‘brave’. Strangers are always telling me about how brave I am, and I don’t believe it, or agree, but I’ve prepared a good ‘gracious’ face, ‘…weird. Dora Bainbridge has been for supper a few times. She used to be my mum’s decorator.’ Muffy sniffs, and her eyes turn opaque once more.

There is a moment’s silence.

‘I am just. Going to see. If Louise wants some help,’ I say.

‘Figures,’ says Plum, and I’m aware of more smirking and sniggering. Oh, if only I had enough core strength to get out of this chair! I pitch forward and roll onto the balls of my feet, arms outstretched, bottom up like a duck diving into a pond, my momentum propelling me perilously close to the sofa. The girls recoil. ‘Just something I learned in yoga!’ I lie.