‘But how?’

‘By doing things that interest you. Go for the experience first and the friendships will follow.’ Lucy looked back at her blankly and she shuffled forwards slightly in her chair. ‘Okay, back home, what was your favourite thing to do – away from Rob, I mean? What made you happy?’

Away from Rob? The concept seemed to confuse her. ‘I dunno.’ She gave a hopeless shrug. ‘Shopping. Doing up the house. Drinks with the girls. Normal stuff.’

‘Any hobbies?’

‘Hobbies?’ Her snub nose wrinkled again. ‘You mean like knitting?’

‘Or photography. Or pottery. Were you a member of any book groups? A running club? Floristry workshops?’ Lucy looked back at her like she was mad.

‘I’ve got my fitness sessions,’ Lucy offered. ‘Pilates, HIIT, boxing. I bloody love boxing.’

‘Okay, so great – are you doing that out here?’

‘Course.’

‘And where do you do that?’

‘Here.’

Charlotte hitched up a finely shaped eyebrow. ‘You’ve got a gym in the house?’

‘Mm hmm.’

‘With a trainer?’

‘Of course.’

‘So it’s just the two of you? You’re not going out to a class. Meeting other people? Having a coffee afterwards.’

‘Oh.’ The tiny body deflated again. ‘No.’

‘What about the other players’ wives? Have you met any of them? They’re in the same boat as you.’

‘They’re not like me though. Most of them married their fellas once they were famous. Me and Rob have been together since he was brought over to the youth academy at Man U. I’m not about the money. We properly love each other.’

‘I know. I can see it between you. You’re a real couple. A real family.’ Charlotte thought for a moment. ‘Okay, answer me this. What do you think you’d be doing if Rob wasn’t a professional footballer?’

Lucy thought about it for a moment. ‘Hairdresser.’

‘Okay. And what would you do if you had to work, but you could do whatever you wanted?’

This time, Lucy didn’t hesitate. ‘Artist.’

‘Really?’ Charlotte was surprised, and she saw the embarrassment climb over her client and sit on her like a child. ‘What sort?’

‘Portraits. I like looking at faces.’ She regarded Charlotte with an intense stare suddenly. ‘I’d love to do you.’

Charlotte laughed, taken aback to find the attention suddenly on her. ‘Oh I’m sure you can find better subjects than me!’

‘No, there’s . . .’ Lucy stared at her closely, her eyes travelling over her face like she was a dot-to-dot graph. ‘There’s something about your face . . .’

Charlotte had never thought there was anything particularly beguiling about her face, not really: light-brown eyes, good brows, neat nose, unspectacular mouth, sprinkling of freckles. She was, to her mind, simply pretty, nothing more. Stephen had once told her she was ‘tidy-looking’.

‘Haggardness?’ she asked, recalling her mother’s words last night.

‘Hardly,’ Lucy guffawed. ‘Nah, it’s . . .’ She trailed off, scrutinizing her.

‘What?’ Charlotte asked, intrigued but also trepidatious.

Lucy’s gaze narrowed thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know – you’ve got sort of . . . sad eyes.’