Helena tapped her pen on her notepad. ‘Well, we’re busy.’

‘Too busy for grooming, Helena? Listen to yourself.’

‘I could go a pedi?’ said Dani. 

‘Good. Bette, you and Tina will report for wine, canapés and facials at three o’clock in the tasting room.’

Bette took off her glasses. ‘That’s very kind of you, Peggy, but—’

‘What’s wrong with your eye?’

‘It’s fine. I got dust in it. Happens all the time.’

Peggy leaned in to look. ‘It’s not fine.’

‘I have saline somewhere.’

‘Well, if I were you I’d move it from “somewhere” and put it in your eye, dear. And, Helena . . .’

‘Mother . . .’ 

‘I know, “the wine”, everything must be sacrificed for “the wine”, but every now and then you’re supposed to sit down, put your feet up, and fucking drink it. See you at three!’

Peggy swept out of the office and strode off down the slope.

Helena rolled her eyes. ‘Moving on . . .’

‘The Advocate, Out, Vanity Fair, LA Times, Rolling Stone all yes,’ said Dani, ‘all requirements agreed and we have photo approval. The Times are playing hardball. Won’t send anyone Saturday unless you also do a deep dive later.’

Bette and Helena looked at each other warily. 

‘They’re hoping for dirt,’ Dani added, with a shrug.

‘All right. I mean, the whole . . .’ Bette gestured vaguely at Helena and then vaguely outside. ‘That’s common knowledge, isn’t it?’

‘You mean . . .?’ Helena cocked her head towards the hydroponicum.

‘You and my wife, yes.’

There was annoyance in the way Bette set her jaw. But also a twinkle that showed she saw the funny side. Dani laughed. Over her shoulder, Bette saw Karolina go down the slope in the direction of the hydroponicum. She checked on the ticket from earlier. Tina had picked it up.

***

The hydroponicum was a tall, L-shaped greenhouse constructed from black steel and smart, hi-tech glass. Along its inner walls were rows of huge black buckets for growing tomatoes, chillies and berries. Down the middle were raised gutters filled with bok choy, radish, spinach and thousands of heads of micro-basil, as well as butter lettuce and edible flowers: nasturtium, marigolds, orchids. Medical-grade driplines fed directly into them, with digital readouts and winking lights. In daytime, it was a climate-conditioned haven guests loved to linger in, to listen to the soothing sssss-puh of the misting nozzles and feel the gentle waft of the ceiling fans. At night, it was otherworldly.