I get into a luxurious golden lift with three businessmen in Italian suits. A smell of wet wool is rising from me and I’m aware that the trainer with the torn sole is leaking. I also spot the fact that a couple of lavender post-surgical bras are tangled up with one another and hanging half-out of my bag. They are padded and enormous. Still grinning furiously, I shove them back in. The businessmen say nothing but look disgruntled at the concept that I am in their lift, which goes to one of the special floors that only has luxury suites – Mel’s new suite is even higher than the first. I sniff and fix my wet hair in the mirror. They murmur to one another in Mandarin. They get out at the same floor as me, and for a second I worry that they have something to do with the orchestra; but no. They carry on down the hall to the Rochester suite in a swish of expensive fabric.

The Windsor Suite has its own doorbell. Antonio answers it with that tousled, bedroom look. He’s wearing a silk shirt and posh tracksuit bottoms, and his feet are bare. Immediately I know that she’s taken my advice. He gets that soft, cuddly bedroom-eye thing going on right after sex. All that oxytocin.

‘How is she?’ I whisper. ‘How long is it since she slept?’

He takes a deep breath. ‘Not since you were here last. She has the concert tomorrow. The conductor has been to see her and now she’s upset about that. She got a prescription from the doctor but she won’t take it. I think she should take it.’

‘OK,’ I murmur. ‘Is that what you want me to tell her? Take her medication? None of this was my idea.’

He sags visibly. ‘I don’t know. She likes you, and she trusts you, and if you tell her to take the meds maybe she listens.’

‘OK, well, how about this. It’s only seven o’clock. Let’s see if she can get to sleep on her own. And if it’s one and she still can’t sleep, then she can use something. OK?’

He swallows. ‘OK. Thanks, Charlie. I . . . you know, when I first met her she really wasn’t this high-maintenance. It’s too much for me.’

High-maintenance? What man says that unironically any more?

I say, ‘Don’t be a jackass and spoil everything. She’s going through a lot. Sleep in the next room like before. And this time, if I call you, do as I say.’

He raises his eyebrows. This is not the ever-obliging Charlie he knows. Well, so what? I’m at work now.