Gareth tried to talk on the way over, filling the air with irritating quips and dull observations. It was obvious Mum had set this up and that it was some sort of plot to get us talking and make me like him. Well, I wasn’t falling for it, so I set my jaw and crossed my arms and fixed my gaze out of the window until he got the message and shut up.

Eventually we reached the road that led up to The Cliff House. As soon as we turned onto it, I asked him to stop to let me out.

‘But the house is further on.’

‘I’d like some air.’ I didn’t want to risk any of the Davenports seeing me with weasel-faced Gareth bloody Spence.

‘Oh, Tamsyn!’ cried Eleanor when she opened the door to me. ‘Thank goodness, you’re here!’

I grinned as Eleanor put her drink on the console table then rested both hands on my shoulders and kissed me on the forehead. I winced as the pressure of her hand pulled at my skin and made the tattoo sting. I looked over her shoulder expecting to see a room full of people but there was nobody there.

Eleanor was wearing a purple silk dress with a wide gold belt and pads on her shoulders that made them twice as wide as they were. There was a slit in the side of the dress which went almost all the way up to her knickers, and the front was cut into a low V. It was hard to tell without staring, but I was pretty sure she didn’t have a bra on. Her make-up was flawless, the blemishes I knew were there were covered up with immaculate foundation, her eyes outlined with blue, lips a glossy red, and on her cheeks were two matching stripes of pink blusher. Her hair had been teased into an extravagant mass around her face like blonde candyfloss. On her wrist was the most beautiful bracelet. Fine gold twisted into a rope with vibrant red stones set in intervals around it.

‘It’s sweet, isn’t it?’ she said, catching me staring at it. ‘Rubies and rose gold. A present from Max. ‘Now,’ she purred. ‘Edie did warn me you might need a bit of help with your clothes.’

‘I’m not dressed right?’ The skirt I’d borrowed from Mum was her navy one, quite plain but certainly smart, which she’d bought to go to the party in the church hall to celebrate Prince Charles marrying Lady Di. In the end I’d paired it with my best top, a soft green sweater with a line of sequins sewn around the hem and sleeves.

‘It’s fine, Tamsyn, but I think I have something better you can borrow. Come on, let’s sort you out.’ She rested a hand against my cheek for a moment. ‘Such a pretty girl. And, oh,’ she groaned, ‘that hair!’