‘These are things we learn,’ Ewan said. ‘I didn’t have the first notion when I started either. That said, before I wrote the first McCreadie books, I wrote two absolutely awful books which will forever stay in a drawer. And if they ever come out of that drawer, it will be to burn them. No one will ever want to publish them as the great forgotten works of Ewan McLachlan,’ and he laughed.

They had said their goodbyes shortly after, and she had been grateful to go back to her room, where she’d stared at the notes she had taken and wondered if this was just confusing her more than helping her feel more confident.

Pretty much like her momentary desire to kiss Ewan was confusing her rather than helping her to feel more in control of her life. In fact, this whole day/experience was confusing her. Right then, she would have given anything to be curled up on her bed at home with Clara, but she knew that wasn’t possible. So she did the next best thing.

She called home and spoke with her mother, asking how Clara was. She was informed that Clara was curled on her favourite seat with Buttercup in her arms and her eyes were already drooping.

‘She’ll sleep well tonight. But how are you? How is the big once-in-a-lifetime opportunity going?’

Her mother’s voice was so full of hope and excitement for her that she absolutely couldn’t bring herself to say that she was feeling a little off-kilter. That Ewan had told her things about writing which made her feel as if she was totally winging it. And she was too nervous to order room service and was really quite hungry.

‘It’s good, Mum,’ she said. ‘He’s making me think about things in a very different way.’ That much was true, after all, if not the full story.

‘I know I keep saying this,’ her mum said, ‘but I’m so proud of you. Not only for impressing someone of his calibre, which I never doubted you’d be capable of. But also in taking this chance. Acting so spontaneously. You should absolutely do that more often.’

Jo made a vague affirmative noise. If only her mother knew how, at that very moment, it was taking all her guts not to hitch-hike back to Derry and go into hiding for at least the following twelve months.

‘Okay, darling. I need to get back to Clara and the movie. I’ll send you a sneaky picture in a bit. She’s ridiculously cute.’

Jo smiled. ‘That would be lovely, Mum. And give her a kiss from me, will you? Tell her she’s the best wee sister in the world.’