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‘Will there be tasks and exercises to do and stuff like that, then?’ I asked.

‘That’s right,’ said Carla. ‘There will be professional supervision and guided activities, so your time will be structured. I thought that might work well for you both.’

She was trying to suck me in with all the nice things about writing retreats in the French Riviera, of which obviously there were many, but she was missing the point. I didn’t want to do any of these lovely-sounding things with the not-so-lovely Theo Winters. Then something else occurred to me.

‘Carla, there’s my dad. I can’t just go off for twelve days. Plus, I can’t really afford flashy hotels and writing retreats at the moment, what with not having an actual publishing deal.’

‘Oh, didn’t I mention that it’s all paid for?’ said Carla. ‘Courtesy of yours truly. Consider it a gift to my two favourite clients.’

I felt a bit hot all of a sudden. Nobody had ever bought mea trip to anywhere. And I had never been anyone’s favourite anything.

‘I couldn’t possibly let you pay for it,’ I said, strangely flattered.

‘You can repay me by writing another bestseller,’ said Carla.

Fair enough, I supposed. She took authors on and kind of relied on them to keep producing work that people wanted to read, and that would make her a decent amount in commission. I hadn’t exactly held up my side of the bargain recently, had I?

‘And I’m sure you can find someone to help with your dad. It’s about time your siblings stepped up, no?’

I mean, she had a point, and it was glaringly obvious to everyone else that that was exactly what needed to happen. But the actual implementing of it by me was where it all fell down. Because I’d always been the one to take the lead – I’d sort of had to be initially, and it had stuck. And I liked fixing things for people and I was good at it, so it was hard for me to relinquish control.

‘Look, it’s going to be divine out there,’ gushed Carla. ‘You told me you want to prioritise your career, Scarlett, and in order for you to do that, you need to physically remove yourself from the shackles of everyday life. Temporarily, of course. Otherwise you won’t be able to focus on your novel, yes?’

Carla was very persuasive. And on the odd occasion I’d had to go away with work, my family had managed to cobble through, possibly because they knew they didn’t have me to fall back on if things didn’t quite go to plan. But twelve days? I’d never been gone for that long.

‘Does it have to be the full two weeks?’ I asked tentatively.

‘It does. And it’s all booked, and so are your flights. I’llget Lily to ping the details over to you first thing in the morning.’

‘But––’

‘Sorry, Scarlett, must dash, I’ve got an event. Let’s touch base soon.’

The line went dead. I put my phone down and stared at it for quite a long time before picking up Alexa’s soup and taking it through to the lounge. Could I really go off to Cannes on Saturday? Would Theo even agree to it – he might have people he didn’t want to leave, too? The thought of that made me feel a bit queasy, so I quickly buried it, down in the deep, murky depths of my memory where other unpleasant things lurked.

I set the soup down on the coffee table next to Alexa, who had some colour back in her cheeks and looked altogether less terrible.

‘Hungry?’ I asked, kneeling on the floor next to her.

‘Very,’ she said, smiling weakly. ‘Thanks for this, Scar.’

She sat up, using a scrunchie on her wrist to pull her dark curls off her face and into a bun.

‘Smells good,’ she said.

I shifted position, secretly longing to be in my cosy little flat, within a few feet of my own bed so that I could stagger there and lie in it and stew about my failing career and the upcoming horror of the retreat. But Alexa needed me and so I would be here, no questions asked.

‘Would it help to talk about what triggered the panic attack?’ I asked her gently as she slurped at her soup.

She shrugged.

‘Same old. I read an email about my next placement. They’ve changed all my shifts around and they’ve put me on tons of nights. I got all worked up about how I’m going to fit in revising for my exams.’

I nodded. ‘You’ll find a way to manage. You’ve done loads of revision already, anyway, so hopefully it’s just a matter of re-reading your notes whenever you get a chance. Why don’t you make yourself a timetable? That always makes you feel more in control, doesn’t it?’

‘I suppose,’ said Alexa, nodding. ‘Maybe I’ll do that this weekend. I think I’ll feel better once I’ve got a plan.’

Alexa was generally far more organised than I was – her detailed plans and her ability to stick to them were basically all of my professional goals rolled into one. Every time I started a new book I would map out a chapter-by-chapter breakdown of what I was going to write and when. On average, I’d given up by day two.