Like children, they grabbed their bags from the car and ran inside, scattering and looking for bedrooms. Luckily, each door had a name on it, so there were no fights to be had. Chloe ran down the corridor, following Zadie and looking for her name. Just as she was starting to panic that she had been forgotten, that she didn’t have a room and that perhaps her inclusion was one enormous mistake, she spotted another door, which led up a spiral staircase to the eaves of the house. She went up and found her room. It was long and light with huge windows at either end and ceilings which sloped to the floor on each side. It somehow felt like a ship’s cabin. On the bed was a typed-up itinerary.

One o’clock: lunch. Three o’clock: hot tub. Six o’clock: cocktails. Eight o’clock: dinner. Midnight: games.

Lunch passed in an easy blur of getting to know the various girlfriends, pale pink rosé and delicious food served by a team of caterers so unobtrusive they were almost invisible. Chloe had been a waitress all the way through school. Every Friday night and Saturday lunch time she had donned her white shirt, black trousers and neat bun, and worked for her mother’s friend’s catering company. She would pass canapés, dodge questions from elderly guests who mistook her for the host’s daughter and leave the kitchen cleaner than it had been when she arrived. But she’d never catered a party like this. She watched one of the teenage girls – far chicer than she had ever been, in tight black jeans and an even tighter black T-shirt, as she topped up the glasses. She looked about sixteen. Would she wonder about them when she was at school on Monday? The group of madly wealthy guests, only a few years older than she was, enjoying a weekend of being waited on hand and foot. She probably thought they did this all the time, that this was their normal life.

Max’s best mate from school regaled the group with stories – the misery of being cold for months on end and their resentment of the teachers, who, seemingly, hated children. Chloe laughed until her stomach hurt at a story of Max parking his first car in the headmaster’s office. The only person who didn’t seem to be having quite as much fun as everyone else was Zadie. She was laughing in all the right places, and clearly trying her best. But Chloe realized that Zadie only ever really shone in a big crowd. This group was too small, too tight knit. She couldn’t thrive here.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Rav softly, from her left side. Had Max purposely seated them next to each other? She remembered his warning. Zadie doesn’t like to share her toys.

‘I’m having fun,’ she answered honestly. ‘Just worried about Zadie.’