After a decadent long, hot shower, I was busy painting my toenails with Sky’s help. She insisted we did each one a different colour, just for the fun of it. We were surrounded by our purchases, which spilled haphazardly from the bags like presents at a toddler’s party. ‘Am I interrupting?’ he asked politely. I sensed that this kind of behaviour was not really his department, having raised boys. ‘Not at all. Almost dry.’ I felt a little weird being caught with my rainbow toes elevated and he clearly felt uncomfortable interrupting girl-time. He backed away. ‘Come into the kitchen when you’re ready.’ ‘Sounds serious.’ Sky slotted the varnish bottles back in her make-up bag. ‘I’d better come with you for moral support.’ Feeling comforted to have her at my side, I went into the kitchen. Yves, Mr Benedict, and Victor were gathered around a laptop. ‘Hey, Phee, OK?’ Yves asked. He’d had a shower too from the look of his wet, spiky hair. ‘Hmm,’ I replied, not committing myself to an answer until I found out what this was all about.
