‘Of course not,’ he said, a hint of a smile reappearing. ‘I don’t think the Real Housewives do that sort of thing and anyway, there’s the laundry service for that. Unless of course, you’d prefer to do it.’

‘Like your mother, you mean.’

Jonathan properly laughed then.

‘You know as well as I do that she wouldn’t know one end of an iron from another!’

I laughed along with him. The thought of Jonathan’s mum, the flawless corporate wife, in an apron at the ironing board was an amusing one.

‘All I’m saying is,’ Jonathan reiterated again, but this time with a smile, ‘don’t be in such a rush, Hattie. Surely it would make more sense to get there and work through a few of the formalities before you sought out a new job?’

I supposed there was plenty of sense in what he was saying and he did know a whole lot more about how things worked out there than I did.

‘Well, all right,’ I said, but nonetheless determined not to give in completely. ‘I might still have a quick look but I promise I won’t set my heart on anything.’

*

‘So,’ said Dolly, when I called her the next morning, ‘that’s you finished at the hotel then.’

‘Yep,’ I sighed, ‘that’s me done.’

My final shift had ended quietly with no fanfare or fuss. Not that I wanted either, but it had been a far cry from what the Luccas would have laid on, not that they would have willingly let me go, I was sure.

‘One chapter of your life has ended, my dear, and another even more exciting one, is about to open.’

‘Yes,’ I sighed. ‘I know.’

‘You don’t sound all that sure.’

‘I’m sorry, Dolly,’ I said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my voice. ‘I am more excited than I sound, I promise. I just drank a little too much champagne last night and this morning I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all.’

I really needed to perk up a bit. My dear friend had listened to me go back and forth at least a hundred times while deciding whether or not I should move and she certainly didn’t need to hear me sounding so flat about the conclusion I had finally reached, even if I was a little hungover.

I still didn’t think Dolly was certain that my decision to go was the right one. Not that she’d said as much. But I knew her well enough to pick up on the words she didn’t say as well as the ones that she did.

‘There’s just so much to think about,’ I told her, trying to sound breezier than I felt and detonate the ammunition my doubtful tone was supplying her with. ‘But I’m sure it will all get sorted.’