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‘I don’t much care if they are,’ he says. ‘I care that it looks like they are, that they play together, and we win games. I’ve squared it with Bravo; this is in his interest too. What do you say?’

‘I say… sign me up,’ I reply.

‘Great stuff. You’ve managed them well so far. The arcade content was some of the best-performing material of the season, and they both listen to you,’ he says.

We’ll see about that, won’t we?

‘So… you essentially want me to wrangle them?’ I check.

‘By any means necessary,’ he replies.

I laugh, but my mind is already racing ahead, because in all of this mess, it means I get to go to Australia, to Sydney, to summer! And it means not saying goodbye to Eddy, or our fake relationship, just yet.

‘I’ll send you the schedule tomorrow,’ he tells me. ‘It’s all expenses paid, of course.’

Music to my skint, homeless little ears.

‘I’ll be ready,’ I tell him.

Sol smiles.

‘Great.’

He returns to the ballroom, leaving me alone beside the lifts to think about what the hell I just signed myself up for.

So much in my life has changed over the past month, which is either extraordinary personal growth, or a total fucking mess.

I can’t wait to find out which one my next move is.

20

I’d never flown business class before. I’d always assumed it would be nice – particularly on a long flight, like the one from the UK to Sydney – and I wasn’t wrong.

Everyone has their own little area, a private seat surrounded by curved walls high enough to create the illusion that you’re in your own little private jet. The seat reclines into an actual bed, with a TV in front of it, and you get soft blankets and pillows – as someone who has been living in a hotel for a few weeks, I quite enjoyed it.

They also feed you constantly – and who wouldn’t love that? I knew there would be meals, obviously, a few given that it was a long-haul flight, but every time I woke up, somebody appeared with a new tray.

But the best thing, of everything business class had to offer, was a break from babysitting the two grown men who I’m supposed to be encouraging to get along with each other. I was dreading it, flying with them both, trying to work out how I was going to wrangle them thousands of feet in the air, in a metal box, for twenty-four hours. It turned out, I didn’t have to see either of them, and they didn’t have to see each other. I could actually just relax, watch movie after movie, snack and sleep. Life in the sky suits me just fine.

But then we landed. Jamie was tired, like a kid who hadn’t got enough sleep, and Eddy had his headphones on as always, but I didn’t care about any of that, because stepping out of the airport was like stepping into summer. Warm air, blue sky and sunlight so bright it took my eyes forever to adjust. In October, no less. Somehow, it feels illegal.

There was an SUV waiting for us, to take the three of us to the hotel. The driver opened the back door for us and Jamie got in first. Eddy gestured for me to get in next, so I did. Then he got in, and I was sandwiched between them, which was just next-level awkward. It was a big car, but they’re big blokes, so I had full arm and thigh contact on both sides, and absolutely no escape. I know, sounds like many women’s fantasy but for me it’s complicated.

It was a huge relief when we finally arrived at the resort, where everyone is staying – not just to get out of that situation, but because I perked up the second I saw how beautiful it is. There are several white buildings arranged around gardens filled with palm trees and flowering plants, with paths leading towards a wide swimming pool and, beyond that, the beach. The main reception is open and bright, with huge glass doors that frame a picture-perfect view of the ocean, and the water is just so impossibly blue here – I don’t remember the last time I saw water so blue. The last time I saw the sea it was in Scarborough, and it looked almost black. Now this is how I want to spend my winters from now on.

My room is on the third floor, overlooking the beach, with a large balcony, a king-sized bed and a bathroom with a bath big enough to at least attempt to float in. Okay, now this is a hotel I could live in without complaint. I was going to say it will be nice to stay somewhere that isn’t work, but technically this is too; everyone on Team England is staying here. We were the last to arrive, with an evening to settle in, before the official schedule begins today. From here on out it’s media duties, training, meetings and preparation for the first warm-up match against Fiji later in the week.

It’s the first training session today, which is taking place on the beach – how awesome is that? I imagine it’s awesome, for the boys, who enjoy this sort of thing, but it’s even better for me as a spectator, because I get to sip cool drinks in the sun while I watch.

The resort has sectioned off part of the beach for training, although a small crowd is gathering behind the barriers anyway, everyone trying to see what’s going on.

To be fair, it is a spectacle, seeing a gang of big, buff shirtless men crashing into each other on the sand. Honestly, I feel like a bit of a pervert, filming them for the socials.

It’s quite relaxing, watching them sprint across the sand, dragging weighted bags and passing balls between them while coaches shout instructions. It looks like the sand makes every movement harder.

After the running drills, the session becomes less structured. Some players practise passing near the shoreline, while others compete at push-ups.

Jamie stands beside a large rock, testing its weight with both hands.