‘Would you like to take a seat by the fire while Matt brings your things in?’ Millie continues. ‘And I’ll bring you some canapés. The others are due in the next hour or so, so I thought we’d wait for them before we start dinner?’ With a small nod, she turns and disappears through a wooden door into what I assume must be the kitchen.

Hugo and I sit down on one of the two huge sofas by the roaring fire. I take a swig of my champagne as Hugo slowly sips his. ‘It’s quite a place, huh?’ he says.

It is. An entire side of the building is plate glass – it’s dark now, but even so the view of twinkling lights across the valley is amazing – I bet it’s even more impressive during the day. The ceiling is double-height, the walls are made of stone, there’s a large granite dining table and expensive-looking fur throws everywhere. Real flambeaux were burning outside when we arrived. ‘It’s quite a place,’ I agree. Before I met Hugo, I’d never been anywhere like this.

‘It was a good idea of yours, coming here,’ he says.

‘I knew you’d like it,’ I say, blandly.

‘I’m sure Simon will love it too,’ he adds. ‘Very … suitable.’

‘Suitable?’ I say, trying and failing to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. ‘Really?’ He looks momentarily hurt, and for a split second, I feel bad. Hugo can be annoying, but he means well. And this week is important to him, I know that. ‘What is he, royalty or something?’

‘Well, maybe “suitable” was the wrong word,’ he mumbles. ‘But if Simon has a good week, I’ve got a much better chance of him buying into the company. You know how these things go.’

I nod, wondering if I’m imagining a subtext of ‘so make sure you behave yourself then and don’t do anything to embarrass me’.

He takes my hand. ‘Are you glad you came along too now?’

I turn to him and smile. ‘Yes,’ I lie.

Simon arrives around an hour later and is exactly as I expected him to be – overweight, red-faced, and with a booming voice. His comb-over looks distinctly Grecian 2000-ed. Conversely, his wife Cass isn’t what I expected at all – she’s about twenty years younger than the rest of us – easily young enough to be Simon’s daughter – with immaculate blond hair and, most surprisingly, a tiny baby in her arms. Hugo didn’t mention that. They are trailed by another young woman, in her very early twenties like Cass, who I guess must be the child’s nanny.

After a round of shoulder-slapping and mild insults (Hugo and Simon) and air-kisses and fussing over the baby (Cass and I – totally insincere on my part), the nanny, Sarah, whisks baby Inigo away and we all sit down for dinner around an enormous table.