To call Luke’s relationship with his mother ‘love–hate’ would be an understatement. It’s ‘adore–loathe’. It’s ‘worship–despise’. At the moment we’re on ‘despise’ and nothing I can say will shift his opinion. Whereas I’ve quite come round to her, even if she is the snootiest woman in the world.

‘Have you seen her?’ asks Suze.

I shake my head. ‘Not since then.’

Suze looks troubled as she gazes around the room. ‘What about if you just told him?’ she says suddenly.

I know Suze hates the secrecy as much as I do, because Luke has totally got the wrong end of the stick and thinks she and Tarkie paid for the party.

‘I can’t. I promised. She’s got this whole thing about not wanting to buy his love.’

‘Throwing someone a party isn’t buying their love,’ protests Suze. ‘I think she’s all wrong. I think he’d be touched. It’s so stupid!’ she says with sudden vehemence. ‘It’s such a waste! Think of all the time you could spend together, and with Minnie too …’

‘Minnie misses her,’ I admit. ‘She keeps saying, “Where Lady?” But if Luke even knew they’d been seeing each other, he’d flip out.’

‘Families.’ Suze shakes her head. ‘They’re just the end. Poor old Tarkie’s in a total tizz about the fountain, just because his father’s here. I said to him, “If your dad can’t say anything positive, he should have stayed in Scotland!”’ She sounds so fierce, I want to laugh. ‘We must hurry,’ she adds, glancing at her watch. ‘The countdown will have begun!’

Suze’s ‘garden’ is basically an enormous great park. There are huge lawns and acres of topiary and a famous rose garden and loads of special plants which I now can’t remember. (I’m definitely going on the proper tour one day.)

We head down from the big gravelled terrace to find that crowds are already gathering on the lawn and setting up deck chairs among the trees. Music is playing from loudspeakers, waitresses are circling with glasses of wine, and a massive electronic countdown board reads 16:43. There’s a rectangular lake, directly in front of the house, and that’s where The Surge is. I’ve only seen an artist’s impression of it, but it’s really pretty. It shoots straight up about a zillion feet and then falls down in a graceful arc. Then it swings backwards and forwards, and then at the end it shoots little droplets into the air. It’s so clever, and there are going to be coloured lights in the evenings.

As we get near, we find a cordoned-off area for VIP visitors, where my mum and dad have commandeered a prime position, along with our neighbours Janice and Martin.

‘Becky!’ exclaims Mum. ‘Just in time!’

‘Becky! We’ve missed you!’ Janice gives me a hug. ‘How was LA?’

‘Great, thanks!’

‘Really, love?’ Janice clicks her tongue disbelievingly, as though I’m putting a brave face on some personal tragedy. ‘But the people. All those plastic faces and whale pouts.’

‘Do you mean trout pouts?’