Settling herself more comfortably against her pillows, Perdita rang Millie next to thank her. Typically, Millie brushed aside any gratitude. ‘It was fun,’ she said. ‘I always liked your mum. I created an elaborate charade to explain why I was passing in case she decided to interrogate me-you know how scary she can be-but she didn’t ask. I was quite disappointed!’

‘How did you think she was?’

‘She seemed fine to me,’ said Millie. ‘A bit older, of course, and I can see that she’s difficult but, let’s be honest, she was never the easiest of people in the first place, was she?’

‘No, that’s true.’ Perdita sighed. She loved her mother, but she had always been a rather prickly character.

‘Stop worrying about her and tell me about this course you’re on instead.’

‘It’s ridiculous,’ grumbled Perdita, obediently changing the subject. ‘They’ve divided us into personality types and they keep telling me I’m a peacock!’

Millie hooted with laughter. ‘I could have told them that!’

‘You don’t think I’d be a good dolphin?’ asked Perdita, a little put out.

‘Nope, you’re definitely a peacock. Your new boss could have saved the company hundreds of pounds if he’d just asked me instead of forking out for a whole course.’

‘Oh, talking of my new boss…he’s here!’ said Perdita, who had had enough of people failing to recognise the easygoing, fun-loving, dolphin aspects of her personality. She had thought Millie at least would have known her better!

‘No!’ Millie was gratifyingly intrigued by the news. ‘What’s he like?’

‘Well, he’s…’ Perdita stopped, realising that she didn’t really know how to describe Ed.

She knew what he looked like, could picture his face with alarming clarity, in fact: the cool eyes, the cool mouth, that unsettling gleam of humour. He had ordinary brown hair, greying at the temples, and that intriguing fan of laughter lines creasing the corner of his eyes. But she couldn’t tell Millie that.