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any time I’m changing in future, while wrapping myself in the white robe I spot folded on top of a chest of drawers.
    ‘How do you eat all those cakes and still have a figure like that? I only have to look at a cupcake and I’ve already gained ten pounds. I’m seriously contemplating gluing my eyes shut – think it’s for the best.’
    The way she delivers her comment with such flippancy makes me laugh. She’s funny. Naturally so. Plus, she still manages to give off this friendly, chilled-out energy even though she’s seen me butt naked.
    ‘I don’t eat loads of cakes – I just bake them,’ I admit, pulling my fingers through the knots in my hair and tying it back into a ponytail.
    ‘How can you cook but not eat them? That’s ridiculous.’
    I laugh. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I do have days where Ijust sit and scoff, but those days are few and far between … and usually instigated by Billy.’
    ‘I bet,’ she tuts, rolling her eyes at the thought. ‘You have to make us some while you’re here. Billy says your cakes are amazing.’
    ‘Well, he does love his cake.’
    ‘He’s got such a sweet tooth.’
    ‘He does,’ I smile, thinking back to when he first came into the shop and ordered a slice of lemon drizzle cake. ‘Well, I’ll make you something. Is it OK to use the kitchen, though?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Will Dee mind me going in there and using it?’ I ask, not wanting to step on anyone’s toes.
    ‘You’ve not met her yet, have you?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘She’s the sweetest little thing ever. Completely goes with the flow and doesn’t get het up about anything. Anyway, it’s
our
kitchen. We’re not barred from it. It’s our home. Believe it or not we’re allowed to go in and help ourselves whenever we like, too. We don’t even need to ask,’ she might be being sarcastic, but it’s enough to get her point across – which is the same as Billy’s. They’re not living in some upstairs-downstairs arrangement like in all the classic books I read (which is possibly why I’ve been resistant about the whole set up). This is modern-day service, where everyone is considered a human and can integrate on a personal level.
    ‘That’s good to hear.’
    ‘Come on,’ she says, shuffling herself off the bed and towards the bedroom door whilst pinging the waistbandof her bikini bottoms (it seems to be a habit of hers). ‘Grab your sun cream. You might have a body to be envious of, but that lily-white skin is going to burn quickly if you’re not careful.’
    I take her warning on board, while managing to stop myself from blushing at her compliment, and grab my sunglasses and a bottle of SPF50. Better to be safe than sorry, I can’t remember the last time my body saw sunlight.
    ‘You’re awake, finally,’ shouts Billy when we walk out of the double doors on the ground floor and into the swimming pool area. Like the rest of the house, it’s seriously beautiful. The pool itself goes right up to the edge of the garden and seems to just stop, giving a lovely contrast between the calm, tranquil water and the busy-looking city ahead. White sun loungers and umbrellas huddle around the water’s edge on cream stone flooring, and to the left, on a huge wooden decking area, is a barbeque, bar and more cosy seating space, all surrounded by pretty pink, purple and red flowers. Dipped into the decked area, towards the front, is a hot tub that bubbles away and still manages to look inviting even though it’s a scorcher of a day.
    ‘I can’t believe you let me sleep!’ I say to Billy, dropping my sunglasses case on a sunbed and squirting some cream on my hand before rubbing it into my legs, the sun’s piercing heat on my back and shoulders reminding me that it really is a necessity.
    Lauren wastes no time in getting back into the pool. Stretching her arms along its edge, she leans back and faces her head towards the light. She looks like a Hollywood film star.
    ‘You looked too cute to wake