into my bed where I don't have to see, speak or interact with anyone.
As four o'clock strikes, I shut down my computer and leave the office to head for Miss Quinn's.
I arrive at a stunning town house on Lansdowne Crescent on time, and Miss Quinn answers the door. I'm completely stunned. Her voice doesn't match her appearance in the slightest. I had her down as a middle aged spinster, piano teacher type, but I couldn't have been further from the mark. She's very attractive, with long blonde hair, big blue eyes and smooth pale skin, and she is wearing a lovely black dress with killer wedges.
She smiles. 'You must be Ava. Please, come in.' She directs me through to a horrendous seventies throwback kitchen.
'Miss Quinn, my portfolio.' I hand her my file, and she takes it keenly. She has a really warm smile. Maybe I got her all wrong.
'Please, call me Ruth. I've heard a lot about your work, Ava,' she says as she flicks through the file. 'Lusso, especially.'
'Oh, you have?' I sound surprised, but I'm not. Patrick has been delighted by the response Rococo Union has gotten from the publicity of Lusso. I would prefer to forget about all things Lusso, but that doesn't seem likely.
'Yes, of course! Everyone's talking about it. You did an amazing job. Would you like a drink?'
'A coffee would be good, thank you.'
She smiles and sets about making drinks. 'Please, sit down, Ava.'
I take a seat and pull out my client briefing folder, making a note of her name and address at the top. 'So, what can I help you with, Ruth?'
She laughs and waves the teaspoon around in the general direction of the room. 'Need you ask? It's hideous, isn't it?' she exclaims, returning to coffee making duties.
Yes, actually, it is, but I'm not about to gasp in horror at the brown and yellow arrangement with faux brick walls.
She continues, 'Obviously, I'm looking for some ideas to transform this monstrosity. I was thinking of knocking through and making it a large family room. Here, I'll show you.' She hands me a coffee and signals for me to follow her through to the next room.
The decor is equally as grim as the kitchen. She seems quite young - mid-thirties, perhaps - so I'm guessing she's not long moved in. This place doesn't look like it has been touched with a paintbrush in forty years.
After an hour of discussions, I'm confident that I know what Ruth is trying to achieve. She has good vision.
She walks me to the front door. 'I will draft a few designs in line with your budget and ideas, and get them to you with a schedule of my fees,' I tell her as I'm leaving. 'Is there anything in particular I should allow for?'
'No, not at all. Obviously, I want all the basic luxuries you would expect to find in a kitchen.' She puts her hand out and I take it politely. 'A wine fridge.' She laughs.
'Absolutely.' I smile tightly, the mention of alcohol making my blood run cold. 'I'll be in touch, Miss Quinn.'
'Ruth, please!' she shakes her head. 'I look forward to it, Ava.'
'Of course, Ruth.' I leave Miss Quinn, relieved that I've fulfilled all necessary pleasantries, for now, anyway - until I meet my brother tomorrow.
I drag myself down the street towards Kate's house, hoping she's not home so I can retreat to my room before she resumes mission perk-Ava-up.
'Ava!'
I stop and see Sam hanging out of his car window as he cruises slowly beside me. 'Hey, Samuel.' I say on a strained smile as I carry on walking.
'Ava, please don't join your evil friend in the piss-Sam-off club. I might be forced to move out.' He parks up and gets out of his Porsche, meeting me on the pavement outside Kate's house.
He looks his usual laidback self, with ridiculously baggy shorts, a Rolling Stones t-shirt and his mousey brown hair a disheveled mess.
'I'm sorry. Have you moved in permanently now?' I ask on an arched brow. Sam has his own swanky apartment on Hyde Park with much more room, but with Kate's workshop on the ground floor of her house, she insists on him staying at hers.
'No, I haven't. Kate said you would be home by six. I was hoping to catch you.' He suddenly looks all nervous which is making me feel extremely uncomfortable.
'Is everything okay?' I ask.
He offers a little smile, but it doesn't reach his dimple.