She hands it over, and I rummage inside the neck for the price tag.

Three thousand pounds. Oh my… Immediately, I hold the dirt magnet at arm’s length. ‘Did Bren—Mr Sullivan give you a budget?’ I ask weakly, because this is insane. There’s having some fun kitting out your new toy in a few nice dresses, and then there’s this. Excess so ludicrous that it’s actually unethical. This dress costs at least twice as much as that consultation I had with Dr Elliott. It costs the same as flying Tabs home in business class from Raleigh-Durham Airport!

It’s out of the question, that’s what it is.

But Terri is shaking her head like my question is distasteful. ‘He made it clear there is no budget.’ She looks behind her, probably wondering where the hell Brendan has got to. Aren’t we all, sister? ‘Let’s try it on,’ she insists. She picks up the pair of shoes sitting right below it. They’re stunning stilettos with narrow heels, and they’re exactly the right shade of ivory—in suede. Those shoes wouldn’t last two minutes in London without getting trashed.

I sigh and make my way over to the changing room corner. There’s no point in being modest, no matter how judgy and hostile these two women seem. I’m under no illusion that they’re here for me. They’re here for the big fat commission they’ll earn when they ring all this stuff up.

With the robe off, I step into the dress that Terri holds out for me. I’ve left my regular underwear on. It’s a new set I bought for the job, and it’s way nicer than anything else I’ve got at home, but it’s just from the high street. I’m not touching the lingerie issue until Brendan turns up.

Terri zips me up, and I step into the shoes. Everything fits perfectly. How the hell do they do that? I turn towards the trio of full-length mirrors angled for a comprehensive view, smoothing the dress over my hips self-consciously. These two definitely aren’t the most comforting audience.

Wow. The woman staring back at me looks glossy and expensive. And, even if she’s a very different kind of glossy and expensive from the version of my reflection that gave me such a sense of dissonance when I dressed up as High Class Hooker Barbie, that same surreal feeling hits me again.

I wonder if this was why Brendan insisted on this appointment. I wonder if he wants his new fuck toy to be a sleek, designer-clad arm candy and not the boho woman he met at the Royal Academy all those weeks ago.