In the right light, Jordan can look like a seductive cross between a dark and stormy Tom Hardy and the sexily brooding Justin Theroux. This morning, the light must not be right. Frigid across the table, his tawny eyes seem soulless. Wishy-washy. His lips, pursed, reptilian. It’s the dead of winter, but Jordan’s complexion is otherworldly pale, like a ghost. Like someone who isn’t really here – though I have been spending much time with the unnaturally tanned Harrison Hipgrave.

Meanwhile, I’m in my dressing gown and I haven’t brushed my teeth.

‘What I mean, Jordan, is that we’ll leave the raunchy discourse to Faith, because she’s the one with the date. And because she’s Faith.’

Jordan pushes aside his half-eaten plate of food. ‘I’m sure Faith will have a lot to talk about.’

Is he angry that we don’t have sex or that I have broached it, however tenuously, as a subject?

Looking at me – and not his breakfast – Jordan adds, ‘Sorry, I’m not that hungry.’ He tucks the newspapers under his arm. ‘I’m going downstairs to work.’

And off he trots.

10

Preparation for the new show rolls at record speed. Joanna is a force of nature, exacting in her requirements. Builders transform the set. Walls to an adjacent storage room are knocked through to create a dedicated dressing area in the expanded space, with plenty of room for our new SC6 sponsored outfits. The old laminate and pine kitchen is ripped out, replaced with elegant stone tops, white cupboards and a pastel-grey station tiles splashback. The clunky appliances are updated with Miele’s best in class and all the pots, pans, crockery and utensils are brand new from John Lewis. Poppy, contractually appointed as on-screen kitchen assistant and unofficially as our personal stylist, takes Faith and I shopping along Regent Street for our inaugural outfits: classic for me, sultry for Faith, bordering on the ridiculous for herself. On set, it’s all going on, even if I do have a few wobbly fits about the concept of this new format. Every time, Harry is on hand to smooth my nerves and keep me on track. On Friday, I invite my mother to London to visit the studio. Harry happens to be popping through at the same time. Easy-going and attentive to us all– it’s honestly wonderful having someone dedicated to ensuring we are taken care of and primed for success – he flirts up a storm with my eighty-year-old mother, who laps it up.

At work, all things considered, it’s going swimmingly. At home, I’ve hardly seen Jordan and there’s been no change to our situation, emotional or physical.

Two weeks after our accidental pitch, we’re on set preparing to record the first episode.