‘Well it’s not going to wait, darling. Didn’t your mother teach you anything?’

‘God, what ’s she going to say? She’ll go mad. She wants grandchildren.’

‘Your mother? Don’t make me laugh.’

‘You might not think it to look at her, but when I turned twenty she told me that this was the best time in my life to start thinking about a family.’

‘That’s just being practical.’

‘No. I’ve seen the way she looks at babies. She’s got that broody look in her eye. I reckon she wants to have another chance – to make up for the mess that she made of me and Ben.’

‘She didn’t do so badly.’

Isabelle started to wail again, so Will got her a tissue.

‘Listen, there’s no need for her to find out. We can deal with this quickly and quietly. You get yourself down the doctors right away . . .’

‘I can’t! I’m so busy!’

‘Right away, I say. I’m not having you shilly-shallying around for the next three months. If you really want to do it, do it now. The earlier the better.’

‘It sounds so heartless.’

It is heartless, thought Will – and he might have said so if his livelihood didn’t depend on Isabelle, at least for the next three or four years. Then, maybe, when Cissé was established, they could afford to sit back and let other people do the work, and concentrate on the fun stuff like having children and boyfriends that last for more than a week.

‘Don’t be so gloomy,’ he said instead. ‘Come on, Princess. Chin up. We’ll get through this. Trust me.’

She gave him a brave smile, tried to laugh, and had to mop up the resultant mess with a tissue.

All Victoria’s good intentions went up in smoke when she discovered that Rivelli was no longer paying off her credit card. There had been no warning, no call, just a final demand for payment, all manilla envelope and red letters, and the horrible realisation that she was being cut off.

How long before he stopped paying the rent on the flat? Before she was no longer on the Rivelli payroll? How long before she lost it all?