Jack doesn’t seem to mind at all and continues to eat his own food, but Sophie is watching me and I’ve a feeling the penny has dropped with her. I feel her eyes on me as I open the oven and put in my plate, close the oven and fill a glass of water from the tap. I know she is still watching when Jack starts talking about the crowds of people at the concert, the pain in the ass it was getting parked, the price of the cocktails compared to what you’d get in Ardara for the same cost, the way everyone was scrambling for merchandise. Sophie isn’t listening at all. Sophie knows.

‘I’m going to sit out on the deck and get some fresh air,’ I say to both of them. ‘Maybe I am coming down with something after all. I’ll be back in a few minutes.’

‘Do you want me to sit with you?’ asks Sophie.

‘No,’ I tell her. ‘I won’t be long.’

My head is thumping and the blast of fresh air helps clear it a little as I let the wind and cold wake me up and shake me out of my zombie-like state. I need to just come clean and let us move on from this messy link to Tom Farley. Matthew is bound to let it slip next time we see him and what if the media do track me down? It would be so humiliating for Jack and for the whole Malone family to see little old me plastered over the newspapers as the one who broke the heart of one of the most famous singers of our time.

‘I’m going to head off, Charlotte,’ says Sophie, popping her head out through one of the patio doors. ‘Are you feeling any better?’

I nod quickly, glad to hear she is going even though I desperately want to tell her the truth.

‘OK, I’ll talk to you soon, Soph,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll give you a buzz later once Jack gets on the road.’

Her eyes look at me with deep longing and fear. ‘It’s no big deal,’ she whispers to me. ‘Well, it is a big deal but only just because of who he is. I’ll chat to you later. Chin up.’

I can see now why she’s so good at her job, but I don’t respond.

I stand up straight and follow her into the kitchen again and out towards the hallway, past Jack who is now reading the paper. My sickness returns.

‘Cheers for breakfast, Jack,’ says Sophie, hugging him where he sits at the table. ‘You keep safe in Canada, you old clever clogs. We’ll miss you.’

Jack gets up and comes with me to walk Sophie to her car at the front of the house.