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‘Eduardo?’ I suggest.

‘So, he’s Italian? We’re stepbrothers perhaps? He’s older? His gold-digging mother is after my family fortune?’ Oliver’s eyes light up. ‘And I suspect she’s having an affair and is plotting to kill my father and run off with the money. Eduardo is her accomplice. No!’ he yells animatedly. ‘Eduardo is her lover. He’s only pretending to be the son, my stepbrother. Right. Right. But the joke’s on him because I’m a secret undercover agent. I’ve got it,’ he says triumphantly, slightly out of breath with all the excitement. ‘What do you think?’

‘Jesus Christ, Oliver, it’s life coaching, not an episode of Dallas. Try not to be difficult,’ I say firmly. ‘Let’s practise first and then I’ll let Nidi know I’m ready for her to observe me with my first client.’

Oliver’s face falls. ‘So, I can’t be CIA?’

‘I hardly think she’ll believe you’re American, even if she can see past your thick Scottish accent. And how many newlyweds get poisoned by their adulterous brides-to-be?’

Deep breaths.

Deep breaths.

‘Fair enough,’ he says, grinning. ‘Look, I should tell you that honesty is one of my cornerstones. I’m really not comfortable with lying to⁠—’

‘Not this again,’ I cut in. ‘Look, we have no choice, do we?’

‘Well, we do have a choice. We could tell the truth.’

He’s so difficult. I hope all my clients aren’t going to be like this when I tell them what to do.

‘What good would that do?’ I say patiently. ‘We all tell lies. Christ, you only have to look on Instagram to see that. You should see the shit that I’ve posted. No one expects it to be completely true. We all want to believe life is better than it really is. Or at least, we all hope that it will get better.’

I’ll stop there. He doesn’t need to know that I have posted that I’m living my best life, I go out every night, and I’m running my own business as a life coach here in Spain. Where I speak Spanish like a native. And that I have multiple likes and admiring comments, especially from people who ignored me for years.

‘Why do we do that?’ he asks, suddenly serious. ‘Why are we never happy with what we have? Why do we always focus on what we haven’t got? Living our second-best lives.’

‘And that,’ I say, smiling as it all comes flooding back to me: the hours of study, the weeklong observations of Nidi in action with all manner of clients, ‘is a great way to open a conversation with a life coach.’

Oliver edges closer. ‘Go on.’

‘In order to answer those questions, you need a clear understanding of who you are and what makes life meaningful for you. What gives you a sense of purpose.’

Oh God. Oliver is looking at me strangely.

My voice drops a full octave. ‘A good life coach can help you figure out where you want to go in life and how to get there.’

Oliver looks thoughtful and seems mesmerised by what I’m saying. We are both startled by a rapping on the door. Nidi pokes her face through.

‘So sorry to interrupt, Nell.’ Nidi glances at Oliver and acknowledges him with a nod. ‘I’ll have to postpone the observation. Devin’s called. I need to go home.’

‘That’s okay,’ I say, relief flooding through me. ‘Is there anything you need me to do?’

‘No, thank you. I should be back later. Session going well?’

She smiles encouragingly at Oliver, who dutifully gives her a thumbs-up. Nidi gives me a reassuring look before quietly closing the door.

‘Thank fuck for that,’ I say, blowing out my cheeks.

‘She seems nice,’ Oliver says.

‘She is. She’s a white witch version of Gandalf. You’d bloody love her.’

‘Which mystical coven does she belong to?’ He points around the room to the various crystals and mantras hanging on the walls, the bunches of lilac, sage and rosemary. ‘At least you could stuff a chicken at a moment’s notice.’

He’s quite funny really.

He picks up a bottle of psychic mist. ‘Should I be worried?’