He clapped his hands together as if the decision had been made. ‘Excellent,’ he affirmed. ‘I’ll head off to explore, then. Great. Yeah. Cheers.’ He got up and left his drink. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough.

I didn’t want to ask if everything was okay, because clearly not everything was okay, but I knew I’d spend the day worrying I’d screwed up. And if I had screwed up, it would be better to know instead of not knowing and so not fixing it.

‘You good?’ I asked, as he gathered up his things.

‘Me?’ he replied. ‘Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘No. Nothing.’

‘We decided on Mona Lisa for a reason, right?’

‘Totally,’ I said, privately thinking we’d never actually use it. ‘Enjoy your day. Go and collect some stories to regale me with over supper.’

‘Cool,’ he said, already halfway out of the door.

I splayed out on the sofa and watched the trees move in the breeze outside. He had definitely been strange, despite his protestations. Maybe I could bring things down a notch – I had been talking a lot, and potentially been a bit silly by the time we’d drunk all that wine at the tasting. Yes, that was it: I’d pull back, try not to be as ‘much’.

I grabbed the iPad from my room, my heart twinging at the wallpaper photo of Carol, right after her last fur trim. Please be okay, I wished up to the stars. I connected to the Wi-Fi so I could research how to spend the day. The Core Four had sent texts overnight: Kezza had just signed a new writing duo on a project she was sure she could get greenlit, Jo had suffered Braxton Hicks and was betting the baby would come early, and Bri said that Angus had a new job he’d interviewed six times for, each time getting higher and higher in the food chain with who he had to impress. I honestly thought he was going to come home and say his final round had been with God herself! she’d written.

I sent back some snaps of the vineyard, including a photo I’d sneakily taken of Patrick holding a wineglass by its stem, leaning in to smell what was in it. The collar on his polo shirt was up, his blond hair floppy and un-gelled, making him look like a moneyed actor in a still from a movie about a summer romance. They’d said they wanted to know what he looked like, after all.

Mum had messaged too.

Annie. Who was the man on the phone to your sister? I know you didn’t meet him there because he didn’t have an accent. Freddie says her lips are sealed, but I don’t think it is appropriate to have a child keep secrets for you. Mum.