My phone beeped with a message from Mum summoning me to the next interview. I took another precious few seconds to throw my arms around Adam and try to convey quite how much this meant, then dashed back down the corridor, my heart soaring up somewhere in the Charis House turret.

The next couple of hours passed in a frenzied blur of hugs, hellos, and trying to keep on top of my social media. Two local newspapers turned up, and I had to be ruthless about which calls I accepted and which I sent to answerphone to deal with later. I’d just been handed a mug of tea and a muffin from the school cook when things ramped up to a new level of surreal.

Dash and Dumble heard it first, ears pricked, noses to the sky. A few seconds later the distant rumble gradually grew to a roar as a helicopter appeared above a distant treeline and the various cameramen and photographers still hanging about swiftly pointed their lenses at the sky.

It was soon apparent that the helicopter was aiming for the empty sports field behind the house. A crowd of students rushed as one to see who was inside it, but once I’d made out the logo on the side, I knew exactly who was making this dramatic entrance.

Spotting Henry striding down the path from the Coach House, his eyes roaming about until they came to rest on me, I could tell he knew it too.

‘What do you think?’ I asked as he joined me in following the throng around the side of the house. ‘Is this going to be brilliant, or disastrous, because there’s no way it’ll be anything in between.’

‘Perhaps he’s come for his robot elf,’ Henry mused, before coming to a stop to watch the helicopter door open and Baxter Bigwood climb out, waving like the returning hero.

Another man followed him onto the grass, carrying a briefcase. This person waited for Baxter to adjust his coat and then pointed towards the onlookers. I wasn’t surprised that his finger was aimed straight at me.

‘Bea Armstrong!’ Baxter bellowed, marching towards us, the man hurrying alongside him. ‘You’ve proven yourself once again to be a force to be reckoned with. I’ve decided to reject your job rejection. Mannering here will oversee the negotiations. Ah, Driver! Marvellous. You can rustle up a private room where we won’t freeze our bits off. If there’s a whisky decanter and a bacon sandwich I’ll make it worth your while.’

‘Baxter, I don’t want the BWM Today job. I was very clear about that.’