Jo took them delightedly and I knew instantly I’d made the right call. ‘Lovely to meet you, Bella, and thank you for these. They’re absolutely beautiful!’

There was a short pause while Jo admired the flowers, before seemingly remembering that we were there. ‘Come in! Come in!’ she trilled, making a sweeping gesture with her arm. We squeezed past her into the wide, flag-stoned hallway, with Ben leading the way through to the back of the house. Jo gabbled on, although I was oblivious to what she was saying, as we made our way towards the kitchen, my heart pounding furiously.

Peter appeared in the doorway, momentarily blocking out the light, so his face was in silhouette, but even so, I could picture his stunned expression. Ben embraced Peter with a hug, before turning towards me with shining eyes. ‘Dad, I’d like you to meet Bella.’

I stepped forward, giving Peter the benefit of my most dazzling yet coy smile. ‘Hello, Peter, lovely to meet you.’

Peter turned slightly, so that his face was in the light. He blinked quickly, as if to snap himself out of his trance, before reaching out to shake my hand. ‘Lovely to meet you, too, Bella.’ His voice trembled slightly and his hand felt clammy to the touch. I smiled to myself, pleased that I was clearly having such an effect on him. It wasn’t surprising. It was just satisfying.

‘Well, let’s go through into the garden!’ Jo’s voice was high and ever so slightly annoying. I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes and nodded instead, following Ben and Peter through the French doors and out onto a terrace that overlooked sprawling pea-green lawns, with a grass tennis court and a pristine swimming pool, glinting in the sunshine.

On the terrace was a large table that had been set for lunch and was already laden with exquisite-looking platters of antipasti. It looked so much like a magazine shoot that I half expected the food to be fake when touched.

Ben pulled out a chair and I sat down, gazing surreptitiously around me at the sumptuous surroundings. They had undeniably good taste, with every feature finished to perfection. But it was also a bit of a cliché and, I thought, not very creative to have everything just so. It was almost as if they had a long list of items that had to be ticked off in the home of a stereotypical rich person.

Peter reached into a giant silver ice bucket and retrieved a bottle of vintage champagne. Without asking, he filled my glass.

‘Oh! Thank you, Peter, but I don’t drink.’ I accompanied my words with a smile, to avoid any perceived slight.

Peter looked at me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing very slightly. ‘Really?’

I nodded apologetically at Jo. ‘Sorry, I should have said sooner.’

Jo batted away my apology and shook her head furiously. ‘No, no! Not at all! Peter, swap Bella’s glass with mine and pour her some sparkling water.’