In the sitting room there was a collection of the most beautiful people in the world. There were eight of them including Eleanor and Max. The women shone as if they’d been polished and dipped in gold. They all spoke and laughed at the same time, their voices merging into one high-pitched screeching mass, almost drowning out the music that was playing.

‘Oh, how lovely! Champagne!’ exclaimed one woman who wore a bright blue trouser suit and thick red jewellery around her neck and wrists.

‘About time,’ said a man. ‘A bloke could die of thirst around here, Maxie Boy.’ He wore a white shirt with too many of the buttons undone and had unmoving blonde hair, like a golden sculpture swept across his forehead. He and the woman in blue touched each other in a way that told me they were together. They reminded me of Barbie and Ken dolls.

As Max poured each glass he passed them to me to hand out. I walked within the group, trying hard not to spill anything as I delivered the drinks, and making sure I didn’t look at Eleanor. The throbbing in my shoulder had grown more intense and the tattoo felt hotter, with the skin stretched tight around it, and every time I reached out a sharp pain shot up my arm.

One of the group, a man in a green collared T-shirt with a red logo stitched on to the left chest, winked at me as he took a glass. ‘Max,’ he said loudly, his eyes bolted to me. ‘I have to commend you on your waitress. That hair is like one of Lautrec’s Parisian doxies. She’s quite lovely, isn’t she? And a figure to make a man weep.’ He raised his eyebrows at me. I dropped my eyes. Part of me thought I might die of embarrassment, the other part glowed undeniably at the compliment. Was this what Alice Daley and Imogen Norris felt like when the boys drooled as they sashayed into the dinner hall with their hips and boobs swinging?

When I glanced up, he was still watching me and I held his stare for a moment longer than I might have ordinarily.

‘Oh, Freddie, stop!’ trilled a woman in a white shirt that was studded with sequins and diamonds. ‘Honestly, leave the poor girl alone. You’re incorrigible.’

‘Nothing wrong with telling someone she’s pretty is there?’ He smiled at me and leant close. His breath was sweet and warm with drink. ‘What kind of world is it when a man can’t tell a woman she’s desirable?’