“Attagirl,” he whispers in my ear, and I give his hand an answering squeeze.

“Tarkie and Elinor, into Ben,” I instruct. “Danny, stay in phone contact with Cyndi. Ulla and Suze, into Jerry’s. You all know what to do. Mum and Janice…” I look at them both. “We need to disappear.”

I pick up the plate of cupcakes, give a quick glance round the room, and head out to the corridor. The worst thing about this whole plan is, I have to wait now. And I’ve never been good at waiting. How am I not going to explode with frustration?

“I brought a book of sudoku to pass the time,” says Janice helpfully, as we all squeeze into the small back room I located earlier. “And my iPad, with some nice films on it.” She beams at Mum and me. “Shall we have a little watch of The Sound of Music?”

Sometimes I really love Janice.

—

Twenty minutes later, even with The Sound of Music distracting me, I’m almost popping with tension. What is going on in there? What? But at last the agreed time is up, and I sally forth with my bucket of cleaning materials. (We bought them specially at a hardware store.)

I knock on the door of Jerry’s, wait till I hear Danny call, “Come in,” then make my way in, my head bowed right down.

I’m counting on the fact that Cyndi won’t recognize me from the children’s party, because being in a housekeeper’s uniform is such good camouflage. But even so, I keep my gaze down. I just about take in the fact that Cyndi is seated in a low chair by the window, with Suze, Danny, and Ulla grouped around her like acolytes. There are glasses of champagne on the coffee table and a stack of Danny Kovitz boxes on the floor.

Cyndi clearly hasn’t recognized Suze either from their brief previous encounter. Which isn’t surprising, as Suze has been transformed from a desperate-looking girl with lank hair and shadowy face into a society lady with a chignon, full makeup, and a cream bouclé dress with humongous pearl choker. Ulla, meanwhile, is looking exactly as she did when I first met her in Las Vegas and is sketching Cyndi in charcoal.

Cyndi is all rosy in the face, and her eyes are bright, so I guess I’ve missed the bit where Danny told her he’d seen her photo in the society pages of magazines and greatly admired her style.

“Housekeeping?” I mutter, practically in a whisper.

“Oh, hi,” says Danny, sounding irritated. “This really isn’t a good time for us.”

“Sorry, sir,” I mumble. “Shall I come back?”

“Maybe just, like, polish that screen?” He points to the wide-screen TV on the wall. “It’s filthy.”

It’s filthy because we smeared it with oil, earlier on. I hastily head over to it and start spraying on glass cleaner. As I rub away, my ears are almost tingling with desperation to hear the conversation behind me.