know: great idea, right?

As Wilbur’s accountant pointed out in the restaurant, one girl isn’t a modelling agency: it’s just one girl. And you can say what you like about his lack of etiquette, but the maths was unquestionable.

Well, now Wilbur has three.

And Rin’s an incredibly successful model. She’s been promising to visit me ever since I left Tokyo last summer so all it took was a little extra nudge in the form of a persuasive Skype call and the offer of a spare bed at my house.

Then I sent Wilbur a cunningly subtle message asking him to find Rin some holiday work while she visits me, and BAM.

I’ve statistically doubled his chances.

And with Tabitha as well, I’ve tripled them.

Between the three of us, we’ve got the entire fashion world cornered. Rin can provide extraordinary natural beauty, sweetness and many years of experienced modelling for top designers around the world.

And Tabby and I can cover accidental modelling, criminal activities, infant workforce and badly thought-through lies.

As a team, we’re basically invincible.

“And,” I say happily once Rin and I have wedged ourselves and all of Rin’s unicorn luggage with some difficulty back on to the train, “did you know the bra was first patented in 1914 by Mary Phelps?”

I can barely see her any more.

With great excitement, Rin and I exchanged all our traditional Japanese omiyage gifts within the first thirty seconds of meeting each other, and now we’re both laden down with so many presents we’re practically immobile.

First, she gave me tuna sushi socks (“your feet will be like double fishes, Harry-chan!”) so I gave her my British Food Basket.

Then I got a dancing Totoro lamp and a forehead-wrinkle-iron and she got the complete works of Shakespeare and a Cambridge University mug. A fake bubble-wrap key ring is exchanged for a light bulb (invented in England in 1880); a tiny model steam train for musical chopsticks (technically of Chinese origin, but it’s the thought that counts).

By the time Rin finished emptying one entire suitcase and started on the second, I had nothing left to give her but the gift of knowledge. Which is the ultimate present, because you can keep it with you forever and it can’t cause a pile-up on an underground escalator like a giant fluffy yellow duck just did ten minutes ago.

“And,” I say from somewhere underneath my bounty, “the bikini was originally declared a sin by the Vatican! Can you believe it?”

I figured I could use the opportunity to train her up on as much in-depth fashion knowledge as possible on the way home. You never know when someone important will challenge you about the history of undergarments and swimwear.

“Gosh,” Rin says in a tiny voice, “that is top of the morning news, Harry-chan.”

Then she stares around us with enormous eyes.

Huge fake eyelashes have been stuck to the outer edges of them, silver glitter has been carefully applied on the inner corners and there’s a little black heart drawn on her left cheekbone. As always, off-duty Rin looks less like a small human and more like an enormous china doll.

But for the first time since I’ve known her, she’s kind of behaving like one too.

Over the last fifteen minutes, her usual bubbliness has slowly flattened, and with every second that passes she gets quieter and stiffer, and her eyes get a little larger. And I didn’t even know that was physically possible.

She already has the face of a baby owl.

“There are many people in London, Harry-chan,” Rin whispers, shrinking towards me. “There is much of the shouting.”

I blink at our carriage. It’s just a regular weekend train: people are chatting, yelling into their phones, crunching on crisps with unnecessary enthusiasm.

It’s noisy, but nothing out of the ordinary.

“Tokyo is one of the most populated cities in the world,” I reassure her comfortingly. “This is practically empty in comparison.”

Rin’s huge eyes wander the carriage as she smooths out her dress self-consciously. “Am I wrong, Harry-chan? Do they not liking my tyre? Am I not England enough?”

In truth everyone is staring at her, but obviously because they think she’s adorable. “They’re just not used to so much cuteness,” I tell her affectionately. “You are super kawaii.”

She looks around again.

There’s a young couple giggling and kissing incessantly a few seats across from us: hands entwined, eyes locked. Every time the girl says anything, the boy impulsively cups her face and kisses her as if he can’t control himself.

Huh. Nobody is that irresistible.

“I have once too, Harry-chan,” Rin sighs wistfully. “In Tokyo. I am with boy for three, four minutes?”

I nod. “Do you mean four months?”

“Iie, Harry-chan. We have one kiss and I am dump straight off. Now I am little bit …” She gets a translation dictionary out and pauses while she looks for the right word. “… Contusion.”

“Confusion,” I correct automatically, sympathetically patting her shoulder. “I think you mean you’re confused.”

She nods. “And Harry-chan,” she continues, “do you have new one now? Or are you still missing N—”

“Noodles?” I say quickly. “No no, I’m fine. Not missing noodles at all.”

Rin blinks.

“And don’t you worry,” I carry on, “I’ve got so much planned you’ll forget all about that.” I open my notepad at Rin’s Epic Modelling Holiday TM! “After any potential photoshoots or castings, I thought on Monday evening we could maybe head to Greenwich to see the Meridian Line, then have a look at HMS …”

I stop.

Rin’s not listening: she’s gazing at a piece of wet chewing gum stuck to the skirt of her pretty dress. “Why?” she whispers in bewilderment. “Why someone leave that there, Harry-chan? Why not in mouth?”

Then somebody yells “Give us a twirl!” across the train and she almost jumps into my lap.

Her whole body is trembling.

“It’s OK, Rin,” I say gently, starting to feel a bit sick. “Don’t be nervous. London’s just like a lot of other cities you’ve visited, except there’s probably more pigeons here.”

For some reason an abrupt image of the day Annabel first brought Victor as a kitten to our house has suddenly popped into my head. He was so disorientated, he spent his first twenty-four hours trying to get under the fridge.

“London not like Tokyo,” Rin says in a tiny voice, shaking her head. “Or Nagoya. Or Osaka. Or Kyoto. Not like home.”

“No,” I admit. “But what about Paris? Milan? Barcelona? New York? It must be quite similar?”

Rin’s eyes get even rounder. “I have not been visiting there, Harry-chan. All only Japan.”

What?

This must be a language-barrier thing. Like when I said iruka-des-ka instead of ikura-des-ka and accidentally asked a shopkeeper if I could buy a dolphin.

“I mean as a model,” I smile. “You’re a successful top model, Rin. You were the face of Baylee before me. You must have travelled a little bit.”

“Only top model in Japan. This first time now to leave.” Then Rin lifts her chin and gives me the bravest smile I’ve ever seen. “I come for you, Harry-chan.”

And my stomach suddenly feels like I’ve just clambered off a merry-go-round that wasn’t very merry in the first place.

No.

No no no no no – Rin’s never been out of Japan before?

She’s never been anywhere?

Oh my God.

I was so carried away with my brilliant idea of getting her to help save Wilbur’s agency, it didn’t occur to me how big a favour I was asking. I didn’t consider the fact that maybe not everyone finds travelling as exciting as I do, or that Rin loves me so much she’d say yes to anything just because I asked.

Or that she might absolutely hate it here.

And now one of the sweetest, most gentle people on the planet is 5,936 miles from home, scared and on the verge of being completely miserable.

And it’s all my fault.

“Now I am an adventuriser and exploringer too,” Rin says, forcing a smile and grabbing my hand a little too hard. “Just like you, Harry-chan.”

I can’t believe what I’ve just done.