It’s the morning after. Whoever invented mornings after should basically be shot.

It’s quarter to nine and I’m sitting at a large circular table in the Bellagio restaurant, waiting for the others. My head is throbbing gently along with the background Muzak, and I feel a bit green. Which goes to show that room-service wine is just as potent as restaurant wine.

And so are room-service cocktails.

OK, OK. And room-service nightcaps.

It also didn’t help that Minnie woke us up at about three A.M., shrieking that her bed was “in the water.” It’s all the fault of those stupid gondolas. They should have health warnings.

I look up to see Luke returning to the table from the buffet, along with Minnie, who is clutching a bowl of cornflakes.

“Mummy, flakes!” she says, as though she’s discovered some rare delicacy. “I got flakes!”

“Amazing, darling! Yummy!” I turn to Luke. “She has the whole of the Bellagio buffet to choose from and she goes for cornflakes?”

“I tried to get her interested in the fresh shrimp-and-lobster platter,” says Luke with a grin. “Not so much.”

My stomach turns over at the sound of fresh shrimp and lobster. I mean, honestly, lobster for breakfast. What kind of madness is that?

“They have truffle omelets,” says Luke, as Minnie starts to munch her cornflakes.

“Great,” I say without enthusiasm.

“And there’s a chocolate fountain, and French toast, and—”

“Luke, stop,” I moan. “Don’t talk about food.”

“Are you suffering?” Luke grins.

“No,” I say with dignity. “I’m simply not very hungry.”

Maybe I should start the 5:2 diet, it occurs to me. Yes. And today could be the eat-nothing day.

A waiter comes to refresh my coffee cup, and I sip from it gingerly. A moment later a familiar sound catches my ear and I look up. Is that Mum’s voice? Oh my God, is that apparition Mum?

She’s standing at the greeter’s desk, her hair all messed up, her eyes smudged, and with some kind of glittery flower behind her ear.

“My daughter,” she’s saying. “My daughter, Becky. Can you find her, please? I really need a cup of coffee….” She clutches her disheveled hair. “Oh, my head…”

“Mum!” I wave frantically. “Over here!”

As Mum looks up, I can see that she’s wearing the same dress as last night. Has she not been to bed?

“Mum!” I exclaim again as I head across the restaurant to her. “Are you OK? Where have you been?”

“Wait,” she says. “Let me get the others. Girls! Here!”

She beckons to the restaurant entrance, and to my astonishment I see the figures of Elinor and Janice approaching. They’re walking arm in arm. No, they’re staggering.

Both look dreadful. Both are in the same clothes as last night. Janice is wearing a shiny sash which reads KARAOKE QUEEN, and Elinor has what look like burnt-out sparklers stuck into her hair.

Oh my God. I give a sudden snort of laughter and clap a hand over my mouth.