‘Mother booked the taster menu. Is that OK with you?’

‘Yes.’ I beam.

‘It’s quite a treat coming here. It’s not exactly the sort of food that Saffron likes.’

Is this code? Is this a comment on your relationship?

The waiter approaches our red velvet booth, brandishing a bottle of wine. ‘Would you like to try the first wine? It’s a Joseph Drouhin Mâcon-Villages.’

‘Yes, please.’

He pours some into your glass. You take a sip and nod. The waiter fills our glasses. Another waiter appears, with two plates on a silver tray.

‘Your amuse-bouche: caviar and fennel, with red pepper and creamed goat’s cheese on a bed of savoury chilli shortbread.’

He waves each plate in the air before he places it in front of us. ‘Compliments of the chef,’ he announces twice.

We exchange glances and I bite my lip to suppress a giggle.

The wine and the amuse-bouche are exquisite. I have never eaten in as fine a restaurant as this. It’s December, so Rules is already decorated for Christmas, and I have never been in a room as beautiful. Garlands of fir, decorated with red baubles and gold tinsel, are strewn across the ancient panelling. Red seating. Red carpet. I will describe every detail in my diary.

‘Do you miss home?’ you ask, resting your brown eyes on mine.

This is it. This is my big opportunity. If Caprice is right, and she seems so sure, so definite, I need to give you some encouragement. I take a deep breath.

‘Not really. Not when I’m with you.’

A frown ripples across your forehead. ‘Well, we do our best to make you welcome. We do enjoy having you living with our family.’

Are you pushing me away? What game are you playing?

‘I’m so glad you do.’

Your eyes simmer into mine, and I feel emboldened. You’ve implied that you want me to stay in the UK on a number of occasions. Why would you do that if you aren’t interested? You took me to Hampton Court Palace. You gave me the koala. I lean across the table and put my hand on your arm.

‘Caprice told me you have feelings for me. I want you to know, I feel the same way.’

Your frown deepens and you shake your head. You remove my hand. ‘Why would Mother think that – say that?’

My body is suffused with heat, and I know I am blushing. I put my hand to my face. It feels like a radiator. I wish the ground would swallow me up.

‘But … but …’ I splutter. ‘She told me your marriage is a sham. That you are both unhappy. She said you look at me in a special way.’