The timer ran out, cutting off her mother mid-flow, which always happened when she left a message. Charlotte was convinced her mother clean forgot she was talking to a machine and not a live person on the other end of the line. She pressed delete and waited for the next message.

‘It’s me, are you in meetings already? Call me back.’

Delete.

She crossed at an intersection, looking for a cab. Madrid was already sizzling in the midday sun, dust kicking up on the streets and a heat haze coming off the bonnets of the cars waiting at the lights.

‘Charlotte, it’s Milton. Look, call me when you get this. I know it’s not strictly your remit but we need to talk before you go in to see Mendoza. Latest is we’ve managed to shore up a hundred mill but I don’t think there’s hope for much more. I’ll send through the charts so you can show him the detail; he’ll be pissed but just remind him that’s a significant chunk now tied up for ten years – more than enough time for the lawyers to get things dragging on in the courts. This is a good news story, get that across to him but, sorry – I can only block so much, the rest will be down to you after all.’

A cab came into view, its light on, and she shot her arm up, watching with her hand to her ear as it rolled to a stop at her feet. ‘Club de Campo,’ she said to the driver, not needing to give him the address; everyone knew it, it was the most exclusive country club in Madrid.

‘Lotts, it’s Mouse.’ Her little sister’s trademark husky voice made her smile. Her sister Antonia had been called Mouse since they were toddlers, although no one was quite sure why any more; the original reason had long since been consigned to history and the name seemed to have become a fond misnomer, for her sister had the loudest mouth and dirtiest laugh of anyone she knew. ‘. . . I’ve just seen the underwear Ma’s had sent through for the bridesmaid dresses. She’s fucking joking, right? Granny Banana wouldn’t have worn knickers as big as those! You could parachute with them, I’m not even joking! Call me straight back, I mean it.’

Charlotte sat back in the seat, the sound of her sister’s panic allowing her own to subside. No major emergencies then? The world was continuing to turn? Her errant ‘morning after the night before’ was already slipping out of sight below the radar, no harm done.

In fact, a small smile began to spread on her lips as she ruminated on these cameos from the people she loved, all of them in her life – and it was a good life, wasn’t it? It was busy and focused and diverting.

Yes, this was enough. She was happy enough.

She watched the city roll past the windows, feeling the caffeine kick in, her headache gradually recede, her hair beginning to dry. Minute by minute, life was becoming ordered again; the mask was back on and the night’s grasping shadows were already receding in the bright July light.