‘Hey.’ She had spent five days in Geneva in the end. It had felt so good to escape, she hadn’t wanted ever to come back. There had been such a happy simplicity to being with her family – reverting to type, as Kit would have said: taking Elliot to the park, walking Bella in the pram . . . She and Charlie had baked mince pies and finished a bottle of red as they watched their from-scratch gingerbread house gently sag and collapse (too much golden syrup). She had sat at the kitchen table, making paper chains with Tom and Elliot, chatting about everything and nothing. She had surprised Elliot with a miniature Christmas tree for his bedroom, such had been his excitement about decorating the main one, and she had got him to teach her how to make pom-pom decorations and paper snowflakes. She had completely switched off, refusing to think about the film, or her flat, or the Cannes deadline, or how she was going to keep her promise to Mia, or whether Kit Foley was an early worm. That especially. She had spent a lot of time refusing to think about him.

If it had been left to her, she would still be in Geneva; but Kit and Ari were scheduled to leave for St Moritz tomorrow and she knew she had to see this last bit through, even if her film was asking a question it couldn’t answer. If nothing else, she couldn’t leave Johnny to deal with Matty’s packing. ‘Have I missed much?’

‘Not really,’ Ari shrugged. ‘Kit’s just been training, training, training. We’ve been on the pipe, on the trampos. And watching the rugby every night.’ He grinned. ‘Making the most of having no women about the place!’

‘Oh? Where is Mats?’ She hadn’t been in the bedroom just now.

‘She’s been doing some work in town,’ Johnny said quickly, scrambling to his feet. ‘D’you need a hand with your bags?’

She went to tell him she’d only taken a rucksack but something in his demeanour made her nod instead. ‘Yeah, thanks.’ Her gaze tangled with Kit’s as she went to turn away; he’d not said a word.

‘What is it?’ she whispered to Johnny as he hustled her towards the stairs.

‘Not here.’

They went down to her room and he shut the door carefully. ‘Mats got hold of Amy,’ he whispered.

Clover’s eyes widened. ‘And . . .?’

‘“She’s no lady” were her exact words. Amy has quite a lot of anger, shall we say, that their engagement has been revealed. It’s fair to say things between her and Kit didn’t end well. She never wants to see him again.’

‘Well, did she say why they split?’

‘Matty couldn’t get that far. It was a stream of expletives, threats about calling in lawyers and then she hung up. Mat’s been trying every day since but . . .’ He shrugged.