‘Of course, I’m here!’

‘Well you never know.’ This is the only indication that all is not one hundred per cent well in mummy-land. ‘Come in, come on, introduce me to this gorgeous friend of yours. Good heavens, how on earth can you resist him? You’re a stronger woman than me!’

I have found this to be increasingly challenging. The resisting bit. But I’m not going to tell Mum that. I was nearly turned into a melty mess when he knocked on my door earlier. My legs as well as my tummy had a kind of wobble thing going on, and I was so tempted to leap on him for hugs in the manner of my mother that I scared myself.

I’m sure this was because 1. I’ve not eaten, and 2. have got myself into a state about the possible repercussions of this party, and it is absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I’ve been starved of seeing him for several days and he’s now turned up looking even hotter than ever.

It’s like being taken to an Italian restaurant when you’re on a carb free diet. Excruciating. I have to keep reminding myself that in the long run the abstinence will be worth it. My heart will thank me.

I could cut this off at the knees by explaining the prosaic and boring reason why Noah is here. I could explain that despite being my father’s daughter I am incapable of tackling the dating game without backup, that Noah is only here as a favour and because he’s such a nice man, not because he fancies me in the slightest, and that despite the fact that I cannot ignore the fact I fancy the pants off him, I will not be actually removing them as my head has told my heart to stop being such a jerk.

‘More to the point, how can I keep my hands off a girl who takes after such a glamorous mother.’ Noah grins his cheekiest smile and I inwardly groan, and outwardly roll my eyes at him.

‘A charmer as well!’ Her smile broadens. ‘I do love a charmer.’

‘Don’t I know it.’ I mutter this into the bouquet of flowers I’ve brought her, so she doesn’t hear. Unfortunately burying my nose in lilies is not a good idea. I come out sputtering.

‘Rosie, are you okay?’

‘Yes, Mum. These are for you.’ I shove them at her. I’m not okay. I’m so wound up I might spontaneously combust at any minute. For a girl who doesn’t like emotional conflict (or real passion on any level), this is a nightmare.

Let’s just spell this out. I’ve come to a party to support my mother, against my father who I’ve started to realise is a complete shit not my knight in slightly tarnished armour, who it looks like isn’t going to turn up (but I didn’t know that so have worked myself into a tizz about what I’m going to say to him) anyway. I have brought a fake boyfriend, who I wish was my real boyfriend because he’s so hot my nether regions start to tingle indecently the moment they see him, and I feel sick that after today he might exit my life forever.