I mentally grit my teeth and turn to Mark’s customer with a wide smile. She has a sharp blonde bob, and her fringe is almost over her eyes. ‘Of course. Come and sit down.’ I spend the next ten minutes trying my best to remain calm and friendly, and not hack into this woman’s fringe.

Finally, it’s done, and she leaves, pressing a fiver into my hand on her way out. Jennifer nods her approval and I’m able to make my escape.

Stepping outside onto the pavement, my breath hitches in my throat at the icy wind barrelling down the street, stinging my ears and making my eyes water. As I battle my way through freezing air and Christmas shoppers, I can’t help looking out for my sister. Although I mustn’t dawdle if I’m going to make it back in time for my next client. Why the hell did this health thing have to happen today of all days?

I jog down Gold Hill, the impact from the cobblestones juddering up my legs. Finally, I reach my car, throw my bag onto the passenger seat and drive out to the hotel, trying not to speed, as I know the police are out in force at this time of year. Normally, I’d whack on the radio and sing along to some tunes, but right now I need to get my thoughts in order, so I opt for silence. I try to work out what I’m going to do if it turns out the restaurant is closed, and the party has to be cancelled. If Madeline and I weren’t going through this weird awkwardness, I’d ring to ask if she could throw some of her amazing canapés together. She’d do it, I know she would. But with the way things are between us, I doubt she’d even return my call.

Eventually, I turn off the main road and onto the hotel’s long, winding driveway. I pull up outside the creeper-covered building, leave the car and jog up the front steps, worried I’m going to find the entrance doors locked. Thankfully, I’m able to push them open and I walk into the lobby, where an extravagant gold vase bursting with red-leaved stems and Christmassy flowers sits on a polished circular table. At the reception desk, an employee I don’t recognise stares at a computer screen. He looks up as I approach and gives a genuine smile. That’s what I love about this place – the staff are all so friendly.

‘Good afternoon. Can I help you?’

‘Is Vicky Trentwith in? I need to speak to her. It’s urgent.’

‘I’m afraid she’s in a meeting. Can I help at all?’

‘No. I need to speak to Vicky. I’m having my anniversary party here tomorrow evening.’

‘Oh, yes, you must be Mrs Johnson.’