I wasn't expecting the kitchen door to swing open and for Olivia to return in a bustle. Nor for her impatient finger snap that was meant, I suppose, to make us jump to attention.

"Change in plans," she snarled. "The media are coming now. We need to get on the parade yesterday. Go change, Fiona. You're up."

Wait, what? "Huh?" So intelligent, this internal and then external conversation. But I was stunned and stumped, thank you. Best I could muster in the face of ...