Behind her, Becky lifted up the strands, complimenting her on how healthy it was. How shiny. How long. ‘So, what would you like me to do with it?’ she asked.

‘Cut it off, please,’ Eliza said.

An hour later she was back in her room, sitting on her bed, staring at herself in the mirror.

What on earth had she done? What had she been thinking? Where there had once been a long black plait, there was now a short dark pixie cut. She looked completely different. She felt completely different. She kept waiting for the rush of regret. There was nothing.

She stared at it some more. She moved her head from side to side. It actually looked okay. It actually seemed to suit her. Becky had taken her time. It was obvious within minutes how skilled she was. It wasn’t an ordinary crop. She had shaped, thinned and feathered Eliza’s hair until it was a stylish, glossy cap.

‘Not to blow my own trumpet, but that’s one awesome haircut,’ she’d said.

Alex had come over and wolf-whistled. ‘Eliza! If I hadn’t already behaved like a cad all those years ago, I’d be making another pitch for your affections right now.’

Rory was as admiring when she met him at the restaurant at eight. He didn’t wolf-whistle, as Alex had. He just told her he thought she looked lovely. Then he smiled at someone behind her. Eliza turned. It was his girlfriend. She was petite, curvy and bright-eyed.

Rory made the introductions. ‘Eliza, my almost cousin, please meet the marvellous Milly.’

Conversation was instantly easy. Milly was over from Berlin for three nights, she said. One night in Edinburgh with Rory, then to Bristol for two nights for her mother’s birthday. It was obvious to Eliza how strong the relationship between Milly and Rory was.

As the evening went on, Milly kept reminding Eliza of Rose. They shared the same warmth and curiosity. Strong opinions. It also became clear that Milly had heard a lot about Eliza. But it wasn’t until Rory was greeted enthusiastically by a man in his thirties, an old school friend, and beckoned over to his table to catch up over a quick drink, that Milly turned her full attention on to Eliza.

‘So, what do you think of the Montgomery?’ Milly asked.

‘It’s a beautiful hotel,’ she said.

‘It is, I agree. But it’s suffocating Rory. Silver spoons can be handy, but they can also choke you.’

Eliza blinked. It seemed Milly wasn’t one for polite chitchat.

‘I’ve always liked Edgar,’ Milly continued, ‘but he wouldn’t have been an easy father.’

‘You met him before the dementia?’