‘This? Oh, no,’ she loosened the lid of the first bottle and handed it to me. ‘It’s just a space. It’s helpful to have a secure spot near the marina for meetings and such.’

I nodded, as though it made perfect sense to me to keep a stunning multimillion-pound, river-view apartment in London to use as ‘a space’. I loved mine and Stew’s little house, but I’d have loved it even more if the couple who had just moved in across the road didn’t consider clothing, body hair removal, and closing the curtains optional.

‘So.’ I breathed in the heady scent of whatever fancy candle was burning on the counter. ‘I’m working for Juliette.’

I couldn’t quite believe it. I had hit the temp jackpot, smashed it open and was rolling around in its innards like Scrooge McDuck.

Sarah unscrewed the lid from her bottle of water, took a careful sip, and replaced the lid right away. ‘Are you a fan?’

‘I’m not not a fan,’ I replied carefully. ‘But I’m not obsessed with her or anything.’

‘If you were, you wouldn’t be here,’ she replied bluntly. ‘Obviously the background check went through your Spotify playlists and iTunes library.’

‘Obviously,’ I muttered in agreement, making a mental note to change every password I’d ever made in my entire life.

She beckoned me over to a rack of clothes hanging on the far side of the room. ‘We need to kit you out with a few things. Juliette likes her team in black and white. Did the agency tell you that?’

‘They did.’ I wheeled my suitcase around in front of me and patted the pop-up handle. ‘I think I have everything.’

‘I’m sure you think you do,’ she replied pleasantly as she tore through the rack, pulling out various shirts, T-shirts, and silk tops, and tossing them on the back of the settee. ‘But better to be safe than sorry. You’ll be accompanying Juliette to an important event, and as her representative, it’s important you portray a certain image, especially given the occasion.’

I bobbed my head up and down like a nodding dog. Juliette would hear no complaints from me if she wanted to dress me up like a designer dolly. Sarah held up a particularly gorgeous black cashmere jumper and squinted as she sized up both me and the sweater.

‘She’s performing at the Crystal Ball on Saturday night.’

‘Is that a big event?’ I asked, my heart in my mouth as she wavered on whether or not to add the jumper to her pile. ‘I’m afraid I’m not familiar.’