“Absolutely,” says Tarquin. “Perhaps you’ll see for yourself one day.”

“Well!” Corey reddens still further. “Now, that would be an honor, your lordship.”

“And your wife?” inquires Tarquin mildly. “Would she like to visit England?”

“She would go nuts,” says Corey. “And, Mrs. Sherman, I must say…” He turns to Elinor. “Your invitation to the Hamptons is very kind.”

“Perhaps your wife would like an invitation to the Met Ball?” Elinor gives him a chilly smile. “I’m always happy to introduce my investment partners into society.”

“Now that…” Corey seems momentarily speechless. “That would make Cyndi’s year.”

I catch Luke’s eye and he gives me a tiny wink. OK. So far, so good.

I retreat from the room and pause for a moment, breathing hard. Right. Next stage. I must say, it would be a lot easier if we had video cameras, like in the real Ocean’s Eleven. But we don’t.

I hurry back to the little room, knock five times, which is our signal, and let myself in.

“It’s all going fine,” I say breathlessly. “Janice, you’re up.”

I pick up the vase of flowers that we ordered earlier and place it on a room-service trolley. (Luke found it on another corridor, and we just turned the tablecloth over.) My job was to establish that the conversation was going in the correct direction in each room. Which it is. Now Janice’s job is to give the signal: Move to the next level.

As she takes hold of the trolley, I see that her hands are shaking, and I turn to her in surprise.

“Janice, are you OK?”

“Oh, Becky,” she says desperately. “I wasn’t cut out for this.”

“For what?”

“For this!” Her voice rises in agitation. “High-level criminal hijinks!”

My heart sinks. We should never have shown Ocean’s Eleven to Janice. I think in her head she honestly believes she’s robbing the casino vault.

“Janice, this isn’t high-level criminal hijinks!” I say.

“It’s only a little heist, love,” says Mum soothingly.

“It’s not a heist.” I knock a fist to my head. Honestly. Does Mum even know what a heist is? “Janice, you’ll be fine.” I try to sound reassuring. “Just take the flowers into the room, put them down, and leave. OK?” I clasp her hand, but she flinches. “Look, I’ll come with you. It’s fine. It’s all good.”

I open the door for her, and she pushes the room-service trolley out. We start slowly progressing along the corridor, Janice trembling all the while. I had no idea she’d be so nervous. I should never have put her in the eleven. But I can’t change the plan now.

“Look, you see?” I say as we turn the corner. “Easy-peasy, we’re nearly there….”

“Where’s that going?” A nasal voice hits the back of my head.

What?

I wheel round to see a woman in the same braid-trimmed jacket as Mum. She has badly dyed black hair and is coming out of a room on the other side of the corridor. As she nears, she eyes the vase narrowly. “Which flower arrangement is that?” she demands. “I don’t recognize it.”