A large dildo was lying on top of the duvet. Victoria had bought it for herself one summer, when Massimo was in Italy for longer than usual, and she was full of good resolutions to be faithful to him. She had never got round to using it, not having the need, and had completely forgotten about it.

There was no time for her to wonder who was going to be on the receiving end. Joel whipped off the pinny, threw himself on the bed and raised his legs over his head in a position that yoga enthusiasts would recognise as the Plough.

The after-party, unless it was the after-after-party, was much more fun than the event itself. They were taken down to a club in TriBeCa, which looked very scary and industrial from the outside, but which got plusher the further in you got, and once you were past the velvet rope that cordoned off the VIP area, you might have been in a luxury spa, complete with an illuminated pool and intimate little banquettes in dark corners. There was a dance floor for those who felt like dancing, which Isabelle and Will did, and it all got very Saturday Night Fever as he held her hands and spun her around, while people stood round the edges and clapped. ‘For my next trick, I’ll throw her in the air and you’ll all see that she’s not wearing any knickers,’ said Will, at which point Isabelle decided to beat it to the relative safety of the bar. Will was immediately surrounded by potential partners of both sexes, and Isabelle was offered drinks on all sides. She saw a high bar stool, which commanded a rather advantageous position, and had no sooner looked at it than two pairs of hands lifted her on to it, as if she was weightless.