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I take a deep nostril breath in. I want to yell, I told Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen to use her initiative because I know she doesn’t have any. Not for you to use yours, Ava! But I don’t. Remarkably, I look at their petrified faces and say calmly, ‘I need to get something from my office. Back in a moment.’

Deep breaths.

Deep breaths.

I close my office door behind me, ball my fist into my mouth and let out a silent scream. Once it is fully out of my system, I feel instantly better. I straighten up and glance round at the many pictures of pebbles and sayings on the wall. They are all versions of the same message: in the middle of difficulty lies opportunity; strength comes from overcoming the things you think you can’t do; don’t give up.

I can do this.

After the last few weeks, I feel changed.

A few dings and a quick rub on the crystals, and I’m awake to new possibilities.

I make my way back to reception. ‘It sounds like you’ve invited the whole of the Costa Blanca. I need to see that invitation. Right now.’

Ava gingerly turns her screen to show me.

‘Okay then, let’s get planning!’ I keep my smile tight.

The door swinging open distracts us.

‘That will be Meals in Heels,’ announces Ava.

‘Buenos días,’ a familiar voice cackles. I am greatly surprised to see Juniper, the presenter from the Costa Blanca radio station, with one of her divorcée friends in tow. The pair of them look like dark leather skeletons clad in skimpy French maids’ outfits and pillar-box red six-inch stilettos.

‘Hello, Juniper,’ I say, trying to avert my gaze. ‘Nice to see you.’

We listen for a few minutes as Juniper explains the service they provide.

‘Naked waitressing is extra, of course,’ she says in her gravelly smoker’s voice, taking a long drag on her cigarette and eyeing me with a heavily kohl-rimmed stare. ‘And of course, you’ll have to provide the food and the serving plates and the booze.’

‘So, basically, Meals in Heels is just a waitressing service? There’s no meals involved?’

‘No.’

After a few moments, it is clear we are all at cross purposes, but the lovely Meals in Heels ladies say they will show up to the event anyway, as it could be good for their own business which they’d like to expand (Deals in Heels, Wheels in Heels, Squeals in Heels, Feels in Heels). They are both also in the market for new husbands and/or lovers, and they offered to cover our event on the radio for free. I promise to introduce Juniper to Boring Berry.

‘Juniper and Berry, we sound like the perfect match.’ She cackles. ‘We’d make great gin together.’ Poor Berry.

We wave them off and discover that a similar misunderstanding has occurred over the date. Instead of two weeks’ time, the event will now be held in five days.

I gulp.

‘That might have been my fault,’ admits Ava. ‘For some reason my phone’s a bit glitchy, and the number two no longer works on the keypad apparently.’

A flashback of her dropping her phone in my cocktail comes to me.

Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen whips out her phone. ‘Don’t worry, I have idea for catering.’

Ava and I look hesitantly at each other. This is the same woman who has also argued for us to invite the hen party ladies. Five minutes later, she has executed a rescue plan. Unbelievably, her parents say that they can cater and give us an amazingly low cost per head.

Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen’s face changes from surprised through to flustered, as she listens to them on the phone and begins hissing and making nervous raspy sounds. We see her cheeks flame. She ends the call and turns to face us.

‘They have put Alejandro in charge. They have asked me to come and meet with him to discuss the menu and staffing.’

‘Okay, good,’ I say. ‘You take charge of catering and numbers. Ava, you take charge of socials, invites and bookings. And I will manage the ICF mix-up, the venue and the life coaching activities. Nobody is allowed to google Ryan Reynolds. We all need to focus.’

They nod in agreement.