‘I’d be delighted to propose it,’ Harry says. ‘I’ll get in touch with Timothy and co right away. Subject to Poppy agreeing for me to represent her, of course. Speaking of which, my terms are a standard twenty per cent cut. If you’re both happy with that, I’ll take care of everything for all of you from here.’

Standing up, Harry plops the papers onto the desk.

My scarf slips all the way off into my lap. Faith raises an eyebrow and I shoot her a look I hope Harry doesn’t notice.

For reasons that may or may not be related to my outfit, we all burst out laughing.

‘This will be fun,’ Harry promises.

Fun…

It sparks a thought, and the thought is running away with itself inside my head. I could do with some fun in my life, instead of rattling around my kitchen at home by myself, baking snacks and cleaning furiously. Being unwelcome in other areas of my home, and in other respects.

Harry winks at us both and Faith beams back at him.

Fun…

Not as much as I imagine these two will have at some point.

But I’m up for fun.

9

By the time we finish with Harry, Jordan has texted to say he can’t make dinner at home tonight. He’ll be staying late at his office. I’m unsurprised, but nonetheless dejected. However, moping over my relationship with Jordan isn’t my idea of fun. Instead of rushing back to an empty flat, I accept Faith’s invitation and we pop to our favourite restaurant, La Petite Place Française (‘The Little French Place’), to celebrate our new contracts.

Located just around the corner from Faith’s flat, in Covent Garden, the restaurant straddles three narrow floors. Decorated with Moulin Rouge posters, the tables are tiny – very Parisian – and the wooden chairs a little rickety. The food is rich. The wine is fine. The service is typically French, ergo a bit rude, and charmingly so. The maître d’, Gaspard is wrinkly-old and inscrutable and quite in love with Faith. We are seated at the best available table, in a private corner, by the window.

‘To new adventures,’ Faith toasts, after our wine arrives dutifully. We clink glasses. ‘Now, darling, tell me everything.’

‘About the show?’ I say. This wine is going down a treat. Hair of the dog or otherwise, my hangover has passed. ‘Didn’t Harry say we’re discussing the details tomorrow, with Joanna?’

‘I’m asking about you and Jordan,’ Faith says.

‘Oh. Yes, that.’