Richard was Eleanor’s eldest, an estate agent in Didsbury, engaged to a hairdresser called Dion. Those were the type of professions my mum really admired thank you very much: all those footballer’s wives he entertained; why, just last week he had that Argentinian player in the office—

‘Zach’s doing well at French, Mum, and I’d like him to have a treat.’

‘But everyone speaks English these days,’ my mother had tutted. ‘There is a reason there’s so much pink on the map.’

‘It’s the twenty-first century, Mum, you know, not the glorious days of the Empire!’

Sod your mum, I heard Jonny’s snort. Don’t give up, darlin’, not yet.

But I was pretty close to it.

Starting the van, I drove approximately two inches before feeling a nasty lurch, followed by the dreaded thunk of metal on concrete.

‘Damn it!’ I clambered back out. Yep, nearside tyre, flatter than the proverbial pancake, a large nail protruding at a jaunty angle.

I was about to swear profusely when an unexpected figure hove into view.

‘Ruby!’ Smart grey suit and expensive brogues, a wodge of folders under one arm, wine bottle in hand. ‘Small world. I didn’t realise your shop was here.’ Marcus glanced down. ‘Problem?’

‘Yep!’ My stomach knotted annoyingly. ‘Flat tyre.’

‘Lucky for you I’m a whizz with a jack—’

‘Um.’ I pretended to think. ‘You know, I’m not quite sure my spare’s any good.’ Roadworthy or not, it was buried beneath bin liners of dirty laundry, ready for the laundrette after the washing machine had finally rattled its last a week ago.

‘Oh-ho, missy!’ Positively beaming now. ‘That’s you breaking the law right there.’

‘Really?’ It would be no surprise if I was driving on a wing and a prayer, to be honest.

‘Teasing! Have you got the AA?’

‘Um, I’m not sure.’ I had nothing not absolutely crucial.

‘Use mine then.’ Marcus dug around for his phone. ‘No probs.’

‘Oh, no, really it’s fine – Zach can come back and help me.’ I just wanted him to go now.

‘Well, look, before you sort that, since we’re both here, let me buy you a drink.’ He looked hopeful, I thought. ‘I wanted to talk to you anyway.’

‘Oh.’ My mind swam. ‘But – I thought there was a party meeting?’

‘Nella had to postpone. Pretty sure she sent everyone a WhatsApp about it.’

‘I forgot my phone this morning.’ It seemed a long time ago; I was suddenly horribly conscious of my bare face and shop overalls. ‘Phone Alone! Like that film.’

‘Sorry, what film?’ Marcus gazed at me blankly.

‘Phone Alone,’ I repeated shyly. ‘The one with the little blonde boy – when the parents…’ Another joke bit the dust. ‘They forget him—’

‘Oh, Home Alone! I see – ha, very good. And actually, I am. Willow’s dancing, and Nella’s got some urgent work thing.’ Marcus’s eyes were light above his pristine shirt, his face inscrutable.

‘I see.’ I could just imagine Nella, ex-TV presenter, being called urgently to report: a press conference at the Palace, a murder at Scotland Yard, an outrage at the American Embassy. ‘And Beau?’