He looks taken aback. ‘Mum’s not feeling well. I went to see how she was and she asked me to bring over the food for Léa’s party. I didn’t think anyone would be here so I let myself in with Mum’s key, then I heard the radio was on so I came to see who was here.’ He pauses. ‘Are you stealing something or just being fucking nosy?’

‘I’m—’

He holds a hand up, as though he doesn’t want to hear my excuses. ‘Look, can we just get out of this room?’

He leaves the doorway and I hear him walk down the corridor. I close the drawer I’d been rooting around in and see my wretched face in the mirror. Is this it? I’ve messed up another job already? I feel ugly sobs rising up. Pathetic. I can’t even bear to look at myself.

I take a deep breath and walk down the hall into the kitchen where Jorge is leaning against the kitchen worktop, arms folded over his chest. Trays of food are laid out on the kitchen table – slices of quiche, pastries, cupcakes, fruit salad. He’s turned the radio off and the silence screams at me to say something. My head feels fuzzy and I wish I hadn’t had that second glass of wine.

‘Listen,’ I begin. ‘I’m really sorry I was in there. I shouldn’t have been, I know, and I can see how bad it must look. I don’t even know why I did it. But I wasn’t going to take anything and I didn’t mean any harm.’ All I get in response is a pair of arched eyebrows and a gaze that makes me squirm, and I just know that’s it, he’s going to tell the Chevalleys that I’m a snooping, kid-losing waste of space and I’ll find myself on a break from work for the second time in one year. Panic grips me and I realise I’m just going to have to plead. ‘Please don’t tell them,’ I say. ‘It’s not like me to do that, but I’m just going through some stuff and it’s sending me a bit crazy, but I won’t do it again, I really won’t. I know it was wrong.’

‘Are you drunk?’ he says finally, eyes shifting to the empty bottle of wine on the counter.

‘No.’ I shake my head, although part of me wants to at least have that excuse, to be able to say it was the wine that pushed me to go through Julia’s drawer, to stamp all over her trust.

He doesn’t seem to believe me anyway. ‘I’ll make you a coffee.’

I hesitate. ‘Tea please.’