I laugh. Athena got outed in front of my family by a total twat at a gala dinner. It was horrific, but my parents got over themselves eventually. ‘Sweetheart, you look like a fucking chorister. You’re the most wholesome woman I’ve ever seen. There’s no way on earth they’d ever, ever suspect. Besides, there’s no funny business going on here, is there?’ Not anymore.

‘I suppose you’re right. But they really wouldn’t mind?’

‘Quite the opposite. They’d be thrilled to bits. We’ll tell them the truth—you’re my assistant and Athena’s friend and you and Tabs could do with a bit of R&R. They know about you already—they know I was in the US with you. It’ll do you both good. There’s a pool and tennis courts, and lovely woods for a stroll… it would be a good place for Tabs to find her feet again, physically speaking.’

I’m pitching it as a casual weekend in the countryside, but there’s more to it than that. There’s the fact of getting time with Marlowe and Tabby for an entire weekend, obviously, but there’s also the matter of showing them that I don’t come in a vacuum. I’m part of a warm, noisy and incredibly influential family who look after their own. If they were to become part of my family at some point, they’d never want for anything again.

It’s not a case of flaunting our wealth but of painting a picture of a life where everything feels easy, where nobody suffers from a lack of means, where anything is possible. I’m aware that my parents’ pad will seem like Disneyland to Tabs, and I’m not trying to manipulate the situation. I’m really not. If Marlowe, for whatever reason, decides to walk away from this, from me, I don’t want to break an eight-year-old’s heart by giving her a glimpse of all she might have had.

But I do want to show them both that all the magic, the abundance, that we spoke about in the hospital aren’t one-off “treats”. They’re not flukes.

They can be their future, if they make room for me in their lives.

‘Okay,’ she says hesitantly. ‘If you’re sure. It sounds amazing.’

‘It will be. And I’m sure. So that’s settled, then. Now, next agenda item. When can I take you on a real date?’

CHAPTER 54

Marlowe

Brendan warned me on the drive up to Newmarket that his parents’ house was like something out of a Jilly Cooper novel, and having binged on the TV adaptation of Rivals, I can concede that the guy has a point.