It also gave her something to post on her seldom-used Instagram page. And she began to enjoy this new version of herself. Along with the photographs of her new clothes, the designer handbags and the dinners out with Peter, she posted shots of five-star hotels and exotic beaches, blending truth with reality as she always did.

The clothes helped maintain the illusion of being an understanding, undemanding, uncomplaining girlfriend. And if it ever crossed her mind that she couldn’t follow through with her plan, moments when Peter was being too Victorian, she’d think of the house on Union Square and sigh as she swallowed her ire.

A house this beautiful she could make into the home she’d always been looking for.

Walking home from a nearby restaurant the following week, he stopped suddenly and turned to her. ‘You’re such a restful woman.’

‘You have a stressful enough life without me adding to it,’ she said, lifting a hand to push a lock of hair back from his forehead. ‘I like to provide a calm environment for you.’ She hoped she hadn’t gone overboard; the words had come out more nauseating than she’d planned. She needn’t have worried. He might be a brilliant barrister, top of his field, but when it came to women, he was a D student.

She was soon staying at his house most nights. He gave her a key, happy for her to come and go as she pleased. ‘I like having you here,’ he said. ‘You’re good for me.’

Of course she was… she played her part well. If she wavered, if she felt the burden of the act too onerous, she made her excuses and stayed a few nights in her tiny, claustrophobic apartment. It was enough to reset her priorities.

When he asked her to marry him, only two months after meeting, she was stunned and relieved in equal portions. She was beginning to wonder if she could keep up the act. ‘Yes,’ she said in answer to his proposal, her eyes widening as he slid a plain gold band with the tiniest diamond she’d ever seen onto her finger.

‘It’s dainty and restful.’ He kissed her. ‘Like you.’

It was boring, like him, which didn’t surprise her, but it was also cheap, which did. Perhaps she should have listened to the warning bell that was tinkling quietly, listened to it before it became a loud clang. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she lied.

He pulled her into a hug. ‘You’ve made me the happiest man. There’s no point in hanging around, is there? You don’t want a big wedding, I’m guessing.’

It was almost tempting to say she did. A big wedding, in a cathedral, with a reception for a couple of hundred guests in a nice hotel. Bridesmaids, flower girls. Flowers everywhere. The whole shebang. ‘You’re right, as usual. I’d be happy with a register office do.’