Nory addressed the woman. “Why are you leaving? You need to fix this. Can you respray her? Maybe with a darker color?”

“I will not have my work insulted like this!” spat the woman. “In ten years, I’ve never had anyone be as rude to me as her.” She pointed at Jenna, who had curled into the fetal position.

“Was that before or after you turned her into a human carrot stick?”

The woman glared at Nory, and Nory stared levelly back at her.

“That is my own blend. It’s called Miami Vibrance,” the woman said unapologetically. “I’ve never had any complaints before. My other clients love it.”

“Do your other clients live with Willy Wonka at the chocolate factory?”

The woman scowled, and Nory decided to try another tack.

“Look, I’m sorry to be rude. We’re just not accustomed to Miami Vibrance, so it’s come as a bit of a surprise. Is there anything you can suggest to tone it down a bit? My friend is getting married tomorrow. I understand accidents . . .”

“It’s not an accident.”

Jenna let out a heart-wrenching sob, and the woman seemed to relent.

“Her skin tone has reacted to the amount of DHA in the solution. She’s paler than I expected; she already had a tan, and I assumed it was natural.”

“Okay. What can we do?”

“Make up a scrub of brown sugar, coconut oil, and lemon juice. Rub it all over, then shower off. Then cover her in coconut oil again, let it soak in for a bit, and then stick her in a bath and leave her there for a while.”

“Thank you,” said Nory.

“Does this mean I’m not getting paid?” the woman asked grudgingly.

“At this point I wouldn’t push your luck.”

Twenty minutes later, having raided the chef’s larder, Nory was slathering homemade body scrub all over her friend. Pippa sat on the edge of the bath pointing out the bits Nory had missed, in between texting and taking calls from people who were doing her bidding in varying parts of the castle.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Jenna was looking down at Nory with pleading eyes. She was standing in the bath in nothing but a black thong. The bath looked as if it had been pebble-dashed, and Jenna smelled like a lemon drizzle cake. The encroaching bridezilla of the last few days was gone, and Nory’s old friend was back.

“I really hope so. I don’t want to have spent the last forty minutes rubbing coconut oil all over your tits for you to still be the color of a baked bean.”

Jenna gave a small giggle. Nory had stripped off her jeans and socks and was kneeling in the bath scrubbing at Jenna’s orange knees, in just her knickers and a T-shirt.

“Guy would literally come in his pants if he could see this,” said Pippa dryly.