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‘If I remember correctly, it was you who said I was making you out to be like a meerkat,’ he corrects all smugly. ‘I only agreed that it was a good animal to be compared to.’

‘I should compare you to an animal and see how you like it,’ I mutter.

He strokes his chin thoughtfully. ‘I think I’d be a manta ray.’

‘What? You don’t get to choose!’

‘Calm, curious, graceful – a creature that inspires a sense of awe and peace.’

I snort into my glass.

He continues, undeterred, shrugging in the face of my mocking: ‘It makes sense that I would be a fish.’

‘You just said you’d be a manta ray.’

‘Exactly.’

‘That’s not a fish.’

‘Actually, the manta ray is classified as a cartilaginous fish.’ He shoots me a grin as I stare at him, bewildered. ‘There you go. Now you know six and a half.’

*

We’ve been here half an hour and we still haven’t seen Leo’s mum yet, so we make the decision to work our way around the room to try to find her.

‘She’s probably got caught up talking to everyone she tries to pass,’ I say to Leo above the music, weaving around the glamorous guests.

‘When you’re the host, everyone is here to see you.

She’ll be in a hurry to get to you, but she won’t want to be rude to others who catch her attention on the way. ’

Finally, I spot her.

In an elegant, long-sleeved, black gown and a statement diamond necklace, Michelle Martin is holding court in a conversation with two middle-aged men, holding a glass of champagne and clearly in the middle of a story, in which her audience is enraptured.

Her golden-blonde hair is expertly curled, her brown eyes accentuated with liquid eyeliner, and she oozes confidence and self-importance.

You could never have heard of her but one glance and you’d know that this is somebody.

Leo follows my eyeline and tenses. His spine straightens, his shoulders rolling back as though he’s standing to attention.

A fierce protectiveness rages through me as I witness his reaction.

Suddenly, it’s not important if his mum pays attention to me or not – but she better pay some fucking attention to her son.

It takes her a few moments but eventually, she glances in our direction and double takes.

She acknowledges Leo with a thin-lipped smile, holding up one of her fingers to signal she’ll be over in a minute.

She takes her time to finish her current conversation and then turns away from us to signal for someone to come over.

A man all in black with a headset appears at her side and she says something to him, whilst gesturing in our direction.

Glancing our way, his eyes light up and he nods eagerly.

He says something into his headset. Michelle doesn’t move, taking a sip of her champagne, surveying her guests.

I’m confused. She definitely saw Leo and she’s no longer distracted by a different conversation, so I wonder what she’s waiting for. I thought Leo said they hadn’t seen each other in a long time; I’d have thought she’d be a little bit more… eager.

Then it all makes sense. The documentary camera crew appear at her side, having had to jostle their way through the guests. The man in the headset gives them instructions and then turns to Michelle with a short, sharp nod. A go-ahead nod.

Finally, she swans over to us.

Christ.

‘Leo, you made it, how lovely,’ she says, giving him a kiss on the cheek and standing back to look at him properly. ‘On time and dressed for the occasion.’ Her eyebrows lift in surprise. ‘Goodness. I applaud you.’

It’s an odd greeting, and I can’t work out if it’s the sort of affectionately teasing thing a mother would say to her useless-but-loveable son, or if it’s a sting.

It’s hard to tell due to the complete lack of emotion in her tone.

With one cameraman in position at an angle behind her to capture us, another roams around behind us, pulling focus on the leading lady.

‘Ignore the prying lenses,’ she adds, her weak smile fixed. ‘They’re only here for visuals at the moment. The only audio they’ll use from tonight will be my speech later on, so you can speak freely.’

‘Great. Well, thanks for the invitation, Mum,’ Leo says, sounding different to normal, his voice more clipped and formal. He’s on edge. I can’t tell if it’s because of the camera pointed directly at him or if it’s because of her.

‘It’s good to see you,’ she says, her eyes shifting to me, a hint of a frown. ‘Please accept my apologies; I don’t think we’re acquainted.’

‘Iris Gray.’ I hold out my hand for her to shake. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms Martin.’

She looks at me strangely before her eyes widen with recognition. ‘Iris Gray, the journalist?’

‘She’s the writer doing the feature on me for Studio magazine,’ Leo jumps in, his hand twitching as he gestures to me, and I think he’s fighting the urge to put it round my waist. ‘I told your team that she’d be coming tonight. They didn’t tell you?’

‘We’ve had a lot going on today,’ she says, gesturing around her. She returns her attention to me. ‘I didn’t realise you were coming out to Australia too.’

‘Neither did I at first, but it seemed like a good idea to see the competition first-hand,’ I explain, before beaming up at Leo. ‘It was definitely worth the trip. He’s done brilliantly.’

‘Yes,’ she says, her eyes flickering between the two of us as Leo stares down at his shoes.

She inhales deeply, giving him a tight smile.

‘I’ve heard you’re doing well. I know you have a…

complicated relationship with Bells Beach.

I’m glad to hear none of that is holding you back this time. I did wonder whether it might.’

Leo’s jaw ticks.

I clear my throat. ‘Tonight is a fantastic event,’ I say brightly, hoping to draw her focus back to me while Leo can have a moment to collect himself if he needs. ‘Congratulations on Bind Together For Our Oceans; it sounds like a wonderful project.’

‘Yes, I’ve always been passionate about generating a positive impact on vulnerable marine ecosystems, and I hope that my fund and support will help to encourage the use of sustainable solutions that work in harmony with those ecosystems,’ she reels off.

I know a well-practised soundbite when I hear one. It never ceases to amaze me how people in the public eye can say how ‘passionate’ they are about something whilst sounding not the least bit interested.

‘I wanted to launch it here in Australia because I wanted to give back to the community in which I was raised,’ she goes on, saying all the right things, her tone flat and meaningless, ‘and tonight is an opportunity to gather together the country’s leading business owners and philanthropists, all of whom are as dedicated to this project’s potential as I am. ’

I respond through the most convincing smile I can muster. ‘It’s clearly a great success. Thank you for inviting us; it really is an honour to be here.’

‘Of course,’ she says, pausing for a moment before she adds, ‘Actually, I’m delighted you’re here tonight.’

Leo lifts his head, a glimmer of hope flitting across his face. At last, a hint of some emotion in her voice, a faint but sure giveaway that it means something to her that he’s here.

‘You’ll be able to work this into your feature, won’t you,’ she continues to me, not a glance at him. ‘I’d like the project to be mentioned; my publicist can send you the press release to make sure you have the facts correct, and any images you might need of course.’

It’s horrible to watch someone fighting the urge to deflate right in front of you.

The way the creases on Leo’s forehead appear before they’re ousted in a flash, how his lips part momentarily only to be forced into an upwards tilt a moment later, the hurt that flickers in his eyes before it’s blinked away.

God, I hate seeing him like this. It’s not fair. It’s not natural.

How can he be so dismissed?

‘Speaking of images, we must get a photo together, Leo,’ Michelle says, reaching out to straighten his bow tie, a moment that the camera team bristle with excitement over, darting around to get the best angle to zoom in on it. ‘My team are very keen for one.’

‘Sure,’ he mutters. ‘If the team want one.’

‘Ah, Peter,’ Michelle says, looking over my shoulder at someone who has appeared between Leo and me. ‘Thank you so much for coming.’

‘Wouldn’t bloody miss it, Michelle,’ replies our new companion, an Aussie in his sixties with a mop of grey-speckled brown hair, bold eyebrows and a neatly trimmed beard.

His loud voice and zealous mannerisms instantly bring a fresh energy to our circle that clashes with Michelle’s – he’s lively, jolly and his eyes glint with excitement as he looks up at Leo towering over him.

‘Leo Silva, what a privilege,’ he says, holding out his hand to shake Leo’s vigorously. ‘I’m a big fan of yours, mate. Watched you from when you were a grom.’

‘Leo, may I introduce Peter Davis, a titan of innovation and technology projects for a long list of forward-thinking companies,’ Michelle says plainly.

‘You’re a master of flattering introductions, Michelle,’ he chuckles, shoving his hands back in his pockets, before beaming back at Leo.

‘You, sir, need no introduction. I’m a bit of a surfer myself – not to your level, that doesn’t need to be said,’ he barks with laughter, and I smile warmly at him, grateful for his interruption to our stilted conversation, ‘but I do love it when I have the time. You’re retired I know, but do you still get out there? ’

Leo opens his mouth to answer, but Michelle gets there first.

‘Oh, Leo does nothing but surf,’ she says, a hint of disapproval in her voice, adding with a sigh, ‘That’s all he’s done for years.’