I woke up pretty late the next day and wobble woozily in the direction of the kitchen, noticing only just in time that the place was full of cleaners. I was sure Matthew paid them generously, but nobody needed my unsolicited presence at eleven o’clock in the morning.
Going back into the bedroom, I lurked under the duvet until they were finished. I mean, obviously I could have got dressed and gone about my business, but I didn’t want to be in their way.
Eventually the cleaners left. And, then I crept over to the kitchen. The fridge, I discovered, was full of…I guess you’d call it gourmet luxuries? Or to put it another way, food that nobody really ate. Caviar and quails eggs and wild strawberries—oh, okay, I’d eat those. My drinking options were Veen Velvet, which I finally figured out
