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I can’t really say I’m in the mood for the fundraiser today, but with a full-time job riding on it, I climb out of my bed and start to get ready.

The invitations strongly suggested fancy dress, given that it’s a Halloween fundraiser, so I’ve opted for a sort of spooky cowgirl, which is the best I could do at short notice. I’m wearing black denim shorts over fishnet tights and a checked shirt tied at the waist. Lucky for me, my brother had a cowboy hat I could borrow, something he tells me is left over from a stag do and, to be honest with you, I don’t want any more information than that. Not if I’m going to comfortably wear it.

I plug in my straighteners – ironically, to curl my hair, rather than straighten it – because I’m thinking twisting big, bouncy curls into my long blonde locks will finish my outfit nicely – give the cowboy hat something to cling to. The only thing left to figure out is the footwear. Without any cowboy boots to hand, it’s just going to have to be my regular boots – the lace-up ones with the wedge heel – but I’ll make it work. I’m sure the dorky hat will distract people from my boots anyway.

I dash into the bathroom while my straighteners are heating up, heading back to my room just as Adam is emerging from his.

It’s always going to be like this while I’m here, isn’t it? Bumping into each other on the landing, having to face each other. I suppose I should be grateful he’s alone this time.

‘Morning,’ he calls out.

‘Hi,’ I call back. I think about heading straight into my room, but I should talk to him, try to smooth out a little of the awkwardness. ‘How are you?’

‘All good,’ he replies. ‘Am I all right to have a shower?’

Even though we all had a great time last night, things are still a bit weird between us – well, Marty didn’t help, asking if we were a couple, and all the girls were all over Adam (a combination of him being well-known around here and his rugged black eye making him seem badass and irresistible, it turns out) and it made me sick with jealousy, if I’m being totally honest with you.

‘Sure,’ I reply. ‘I’ve already been in – it’s all yours.’

He doesn’t say another word, he just heads into the bathroom to get ready for the day. I don’t know what I was expecting really, but, oh I don’t know, even though him declaring his love for me would have been ideal, a bit of a chat might have been nice, just to show me that things are okay.

I begin sectioning off my hair, curling a bit at a time before pinning each curl to cool. The weather is all over the place at the moment. It’s dry, which I’m grateful for, and there are going to be heaters at the event, but I’m worried my curls are going to drop, so I’ll be sure to cement them in hairspray when they’re done. I’ve just finished pinning the last curl when there is a knock on my bedroom door. I’m still in my underwear at this stage, so I hurriedly wrap a towel around myself before opening it.

‘Heeey,’ Mel – who is, of course, dressed as the devil – squeals excitedly. Adam, looking incredible in nothing but his pants, is standing next to her, and she is visibly drooling over him.

Meanwhile, I’m wearing a towel, and I look like I’m dressing as Pinhead from Hellraiser, with all of the bobby pins poking out of my hair.

I notice the corners of Adam’s mouth curl when he sees me.

‘I found this at the front door,’ he jokes, nodding towards Mel, before heading back towards his bedroom.

‘See you later, sexy,’ Mel calls after him with a wiggle of her eyebrows. ‘Fuck me, he’s fit,’ she says without really bothering to wait until Adam can’t hear us.

No comment on that one.

‘What are you doing here?’ I can’t help but ask immediately.

‘Oh, hi, Mel,’ she babbles. ‘How are you, Mel? – Oh, I’m fine, Lia.’

‘Sorry, sorry,’ I backtrack. ‘Hi, Mel. How are you, Mel? What are you doing here, Mel?’

We both laugh.

‘Well, I thought I’d pop over and give you a quick tan, so you’re looking suitably bronzed and hot for your big day,’ she tells me. ‘I promise I’ve got the mixture right this time – no more mishaps.’

‘Oh, thank you, that’s great,’ I lie.

To be honest, I didn’t really want a tan last time either. There’s something about fake tan that gives me the ick – I don’t know if it’s the smell or the way it can streak, but it’s never looked right on me, even when it has been applied properly.

And, of course, when I do manage to sit in the sun, I don’t go brown at all, I go red, if I go anything. I always slap myself in factor 50.

‘To be honest with you, Mel, my clothes are pretty much covering me today, and no one is going to be able to see my legs through my fishnets, not really – plus, I still have some tan left over from last time.’

And, between you and me, I’d rather get rid of it than add to it.

‘Well, I’m here now, it won’t hurt, so we might as well do it,’ she insists. ‘So, where’s Si?’

She changes the subject quickly, ignoring my polite refusal, so I guess I’m getting another tan. Fantastic. I’m just going to have to trust that she really has got the mixture right this time – I wasn’t aware you could get it wrong.