I pop into the kitchen to fetch a can of Diet Coke and find her sitting at the kitchen table, head in her hands. ‘Is that you, Hayley?’ she asks without looking up. ‘I’m getting a migraine.’

‘You poor thing. Can I get you some ibuprofen?’

‘I need something stronger than that. My prescription drugs are in my room. I’m going up to bed, I’ll take some when I get upstairs.’

She stands up, back bent, leaning towards the floor. I watch her hobble across the kitchen towards the door.

‘Goodnight, dear.’

‘Feel better soon. Ring my mobile if you need anything.’

A weak smile as she leaves the room. ‘Thank you.’

I grab a Diet Coke from the fridge and open it. I take a sip. My phone rings: Caprice.

‘Come quick.’

‘What do you need?’ I ask. ‘A glass of water? Some toast?’

‘Just you.’

I dash upstairs and step into her bedroom, which is Sanderson pink. Roses and peonies on the curtains, on the duvet. The distressed white bedroom suite is curved and pretty. In the middle of the dressing table, there is a photograph of Caprice and Rupert, entangled together. Caprice looks so giddy and happy. So relaxed. In the middle of this kaleidoscope of pink and florals, and past happiness, the modern-day Caprice is lying on her bed groaning.

‘I need you to do me a favour,’ she mutters between groans.

‘Anything you need. Anything.’

‘I was going to the opera with Miles this evening. Saffron is out, again, even on a Friday night when she should be spending time with him. So I booked a treat to cheer him up. But I feel so ill, I just can’t go. Could you go instead?’

My mouth opens in surprise. No words come out.

‘Well come on. Answer me. Can you go instead?’

‘Of course. No problem. I love opera. It’s very kind of you to suggest I take your place … But I’m worried about you. Isn’t there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable?’

‘No, I just need to lie down. It’ll pass. It always does.’ She pauses. ‘And I prepaid for a meal at Rules. A special meal – a taster menu.’

‘Can’t you rearrange or get a refund?’

‘No. It was a one-off. On offer. You must go with Miles and enjoy it.’

63

Hayley

‘The opera was magnificent, wasn’t it?’ you say enthusiastically, looking particularly delicious this evening in a tightly cut black jacket lined with satin.

I’ve already admired it. Hugo Boss apparently. I hope you are impressed with the dress I’m wearing, recently purchased at New Look.

‘Tosca is my favourite,’ I tell you. ‘My dad and I flew from New Zealand to Sydney Opera House to see it last year. For my eighteenth birthday.’

‘That must have been awesome.’

‘It was. And now this. Another special for my diary.’