‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,’ Amber is screaming, and then she launches herself at Jesse, trying to climb onto his back, arms and legs flailing.

‘What is going on?’ I say.

Harper and Penny arrive in the hallway, both in pyjamas: Harper in a loose black tank top and pants and Penny in gorgeous green silk matching singlet and shorts. Penny is holding a bottle of lotion, and she’s rubbing it into her arms as she looks on with concern.

‘What happened? Are you okay?’ she asks.

‘There was a motherfucking mouse!’ Jesse yells. Amber is now on his back, in a full piggyback, her arms squeezing his neck so tight that I’m surprised he can breathe.

Harper and I make eye contact.

‘It’s probably the same one we saw,’ she says.

‘In my bedroom,’ I add.

‘You saw a mouse? And no one told me?’ Jesse yelps.

‘We were worried you’d overreact,’ I say, which is a lie. We just forgot to tell him, but seeing him and Amber emerge together from his bedroom has given me the sudden urge to be mean.

Amber gives a little sob. Her top is only halfway on, and I’m worried about a nip slip, so I look away respectfully.

‘Brooke was much calmer when she saw it than you two,’ Harper says, and I smile at her. You know what, I was calm and dignified, in hindsight.

‘It’s probably not even the same mouse! There could be hundreds of them for all we know,’ Jesse says, frantically looking around like a plague is about to come swarming down the hallway. ‘And I am calm,’ he adds, his voice deepening.

‘Don’t drop me!’ Amber shouts at him, tightening her grip on his neck. She looks at Harper and Penny. ‘I need to leave. You don’t understand. I hate, hate, hate mice.’

‘Okay, okay, we understand,’ Penny says soothingly, snapping the lid back on her lotion bottle. ‘I’ll get your things.’

‘My bra is on the floor by Jesse’s bed, and my bag is on the couch!’ she yells, as Jesse piggybacks her outside. She looks at me. ‘And could you maybe bring me a glass of water and are there any of those little food platters left? Because I’d love, like, a grape, a single grape, right now.’

‘Um,’ I say. ‘Sure.’ I don’t love being treated like a waitress but she is upset and I know the pain of seeing a mouse in a bedroom. I get her a glass of water and a bunch of grapes (putting a single grape on a plate felt like a step too far) and I even add a lemon slice to the water, and carry it all outside, where everyone is waiting for Amber’s Uber.