I didn’t want to come this week, for many reasons, but even so, it feels good to be in the mountains. The sun is out, the sky is blue and the air is clear. I went out this morning with every intention of playing the dutiful wife and skiing with Cass like Hugo wanted me to, but in the end I found that, after a few runs, I just couldn’t be bothered. Sorry, Hugo. Cass is young and boring and once I’ve asked about the baby which I’m not interested in and her former catering business (ditto) we don’t really have anything to say to each other.

I head back to the chalet hoping that no one will be there so I can spend some time in the hot tub on my own. But as soon as I open the door I can hear that someone else is here. Millie appears at the top of the stairs, straightens her logoed polo shirt and rearranges her face into its usual fixed smile.

‘Hello, Ria. I wasn’t expecting you back so early – I understood Simon had booked you an instructor for the whole day.’ Her forehead creases. ‘I hope everything’s OK?’

‘Yes, everything’s fine – just thought I’d spend some time in the hot tub.’ It comes out snappier than I’d intended, so I smile to try to soften it. Sometimes I forget how to play the part of the dutiful corporate wife. Or it’s not so much that I forget, it’s more that I simply don’t want to. ‘It’s a while since I’ve skied and my legs are already aching. Is it OK if I use the hot tub? I don’t want to get in your way.’

‘Yes of course!’ she gushes. ‘Whatever you like. I’ll go and take the cover off for you now if you want to go up and get changed? I’ve finished doing the rooms up here. Would you like me to bring you anything out there – a glass of bubbly maybe? Or some water?’

I shake my head. ‘No, that’s fine, thank you.’

Millie nods discreetly, comes down the stairs and goes out to the large terrace where I see steam rise from the hot tub as she pulls back the cover. After changing, I spend the afternoon alternating between the hot tub and the terrace, where Millie brings me a heated blanket for my lounger. I decide to take her up on her offer of a glass of champagne or two after all. It is blissful.

It’s amazing what a difference an afternoon all to myself makes to my mood – by the early evening I’m almost glad to be here. Almost. The fire is lit in the double-height living room, the stars are out, and the champagne is ice-cold. I guess things could be a lot worse.