“Great to meet you,” says Zelda, shaking my hand. “Great to have you on the show. Now, as usual, we’re completely frantic — so if it’s OK by you, I thought we’d just head straight off to hair and makeup and we can talk on the way.”

“Absolutely,” I say, trying not to sound too excited. “Good idea.”

Hair and makeup! This is so cool!

“There’s been a slight change of plan which I need to fill you in on,” says Zelda. “Nothing to worry about. . Any word from Bella yet?” she adds to the receptionist.

The receptionist shakes her head, and Zelda mutters something which sounds like “Stupid cow.”

“OK, let’s go,” she says, heading off toward a pair of swing doors. “I’m afraid it’s even more crazy than usual today. One of our regulars has let us down, so we’re searching for a replacement, and there’s been an accident in the kitchen. .” She pushes through the swing doors and now we’re striding along a green-carpeted corridor buzzing with people. “Plus, we’ve got Heaven Sent 7 in today,” she adds over her shoulder. “Which means the switchboard gets jammed with fans calling in, and we have to find dressing room space for seven enormous egos.”

“Right,” I say nonchalantly. But underneath I’m jumping with excitement. Heaven Sent 7? But I mean. . they’re really famous! And I’m appearing on the same show as them! I mean — I’ll get to meet them and everything, won’t I? Maybe we’ll all go out for a drink afterward and become really good friends. They’re all a bit younger than me, but that won’t matter. I’ll be like their older sister.

Or maybe I’ll go out with one of them! God, yes. That nice one with the dark hair. Nathan. (Or is it Ethan? Whatever he’s called.) He’ll catch my eye after the show and quietly ask me out to dinner without the others. We’ll go to some tiny little restaurant, and at first it’ll be all quiet and discreet, but then the press will find out and we’ll become one of those really famous couples who go to premieres all the time. And I’ll wear. .

“OK, here we are,” says Zelda, and I look up dazedly.

We’re standing in the doorway of a room lined with mirrors and spotlights. Three people are sitting in chairs in front of the mirrors, wearing capes and having makeup applied by trendy-looking girls in jeans; another is having her hair blow-dried. Music is playing in the background, there’s a friendly level of chatter, and in the air are the mingled scents of hair spray, face powder, and coffee.

It’s basically my idea of heaven.

“So,” says Zelda, leading me toward a girl with red hair. “Chloe will do your makeup, and then we’ll pop you along to wardrobe. OK?”

“Fine,” I say, my eyes widening as I take in Chloe’s collection of makeup. There’s about a zillion brushes, pots, and tubes littered over the counter in front of us, all really good brands like Chanel and MAC.

“Now, about your slot,” continues Zelda as I sit down on a swivel chair. “As I say, we’ve gone for a rather different format from the one we talked about previously. .”

“Zelda!” comes a man’s voice from outside. “Bella’s on the line for you!”

“Oh shit,” says Zelda. “Look, Rebecca, I’ve got to go and take this call, but I’ll come back as soon as I can. OK?”

“Fine!” I say happily, as Chloe drapes a cape round me and pulls my hair back into a wide towel band. In the background, the radio’s playing my favorite song by Lenny Kravitz.

“I’ll just cleanse and tone, and then give you a base,” says Chloe. “If you could shut your eyes. .”

I close my eyes and, after a few seconds, feel a cool, creamy liquid being massaged into my face. It’s the most delicious sensation in the world. I could sit here all day.

“So,” says Chloe after a while. “What are you on the show for?”

“Errm. . finance,” I say vaguely. “A piece on finance.”

To be honest, I’m feeling so relaxed, I can hardly remember what I’m doing here.

“Oh, yeah,” says Chloe, efficiently smoothing foundation over my face. “They were talking earlier about some financial thing.” She reaches for a palette of eyeshadows, blends a couple of colors together, then picks up a brush. “So, are you a financial expert, then?”

“Well,” I say, a little awkwardly. “You know.”

“Wow,” says Chloe, starting to apply eyeshadow to my eyelids. “I don’t understand the first thing about money.”

“Me neither!” chimes in a dark-haired girl from across the room. “My accountant’s given up trying to explain it all to me. As soon he says the word ‘tax-year,’ my mind glazes over.”

I’m about to reply sympathetically “Me too!” and launch into a nice girly chat — but then I stop myself. The memory of Janice and Martin is a bit too raw for me to be flippant.

“You probably know quite a lot more about your finances than you realize,” I say instead. “If you really don’t know. . then you should take advice from someone who does.”

“You mean a financial expert like you?” says the girl.

I smile back, trying to look confident — but all this talk of my being a “financial expert” is unnerving me. I feel as though any minute now, someone’s going to walk in, ask me an impossible question about South African bond yields, and then denounce me as a fraud. Thank goodness I know exactly what I’m going to say on air.

“Sorry, Rebecca,” says Chloe, “I’m going to have to interrupt. Now, I was thinking a raspberry red for the lips. Is that OK by you?”

What with all this chatting, I haven’t really been paying attention to what she’s been doing to my face. But as I look at my reflection properly, I can’t quite believe it. My eyes are huge; I’ve suddenly got amazing cheekbones. . honestly, I look like a different person. Why on earth don’t I wear makeup like this every day?

“Wow!” I breathe.

“It’s easier because you’re so calm,” observes Chloe, reaching into a black vanity case. “We get some people in here, really trembling with nerves. Even celebrities. We can hardly do their makeup.”

“Really?” I say, and lean forward, ready to hear some insider gossip. But Zelda’s voice interrupts us.

“Sorry about that, Rebecca!” she exclaims. “Right, how are we doing? Makeup looks good. What about hair?”

“It’s nicely cut,” says Chloe, picking up a few strands of my hair and dropping them back down again, just like Nicky Clarke on a makeover. “I’ll just give it a blow-dry for sheen.”

“Fine,” says Zelda. “And then we’ll get her along to wardrobe.” She glances at something on her clipboard, then sits down on a swivel chair next to me. “OK, so, Rebecca, we need to talk about your item.”

“Excellent,” I say, matching her businesslike tone. “Well, I’ve prepared it all just as you wanted. Really simple and straightforward.”

“Yup,” says Zelda. “Well, that’s the thing. We had a talk at the meeting yesterday, and you’ll be glad to hear, we don’t need it too basic, after all.” She smiles. “You’ll be able to get as technical as you like!”

“Oh, right,” I say, taken aback. “Well. . good! That’s great! Although I might still keep it fairly low—”

“We want to avoid talking down to the audience. I mean, they’re not morons!” Zelda lowers her voice slightly. “Plus we had some new audience research in yesterday, and apparently 80 percent of our viewers feel patronized by some or all of the show’s content. Basically, we need to redress that balance. So we’ve had a complete change of plan for your item!” She beams at me. “What we thought is, instead of a simple interview, we’d have more of a high-powered debate.”

“A high-powered debate?” I echo, trying not to sound as alarmed as I feel.

“Absolutely!” says Zelda. “What we want is a really heated discussion! Opinions flying, voices raised. That kind of thing.”

Opinions?

“So is that OK?” says Zelda, frowning at me. “You look a bit—”

“I’m fine!” I force myself to smile brightly. “Just. . looking forward to it! A nice high-powered debate. Great!” I clear my throat. “And. . and who will I be debating with?”

“A representative from Flagstaff Life,” says Zelda triumphantly. “Head-to-head with the enemy. It’ll make great television!”

“Zelda!” comes a voice from outside the room. “Bella again!”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” says Zelda, leaping up. “Rebecca, I’ll be back in a sec.”

“Fine,” I manage. “See you in a minute.”

“OK,” says Chloe cheerfully. “While she’s gone, let me put on that lipstick.”

She reaches for a long brush and begins to paint in my lips, and I stare at my reflection, trying to keep calm, trying not to panic. But my throat’s so tight, I can’t swallow. I’ve never felt so frightened in all my life.

I can’t talk in a high-powered debate!

Why did I ever want to be on television?

“Rebecca, could you try to keep your lips still?” says Chloe with a puzzled frown. “They’re really shaking.”

“Sorry,” I whisper, staring at my reflection like a frozen rabbit. She’s right, I’m trembling all over. Oh God, this is no good. I’ve got to calm down. Think happy thoughts. Think Zen.

In an effort to distract myself, I focus on the reflection in the mirror. In the background I can see Zelda standing in the corridor, talking into a phone with a furious expression on her face.

“Yup,” I can hear her saying curtly. “Yup. But the point is, Bella, we pay you a retainer to be available. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” She looks up, sees someone, and lifts a hand in greeting. “OK, Bella, I do see that. .”

A blond woman and two men appear in the corridor, and Zelda nods to them apologetically. I can’t see their faces, but they’re all wearing smart overcoats and holding briefcases, and one of the men is holding a folder bulging with papers. The blond woman’s coat is actually rather nice, I find myself thinking. And she’s got a gorgeous Louis Vuitton bag. I wonder who she is.

“Yup,” Zelda’s saying. “Yup. Well, if you can suggest an alternative phone-in subject. .”

She raises her eyebrows at the blond woman, who shrugs and turns away to look at a poster on the wall. And as she does so, my heart nearly stops dead.

Because I recognize her. It’s Alicia. Alicia from Brandon Communications is standing five yards away from me.

I almost want to laugh at the incongruity of it. What’s she doing here? What’s Alicia Bitch Long-legs doing here, for God’s sake?

One of the men turns round to say something to her — and as I see his face, I think I recognize him, too. He’s another one of the Brandon C lot, isn’t he? One of those young, eager, baby-faced types.

But what on earth are they all doing here? What’s going on? Surely it can’t be—

They can’t all be here because of—

No. Oh no. Suddenly I feel rather cold.

“Luke!” comes Zelda’s voice from the corridor, and I feel a swoop of dismay. “So glad you could make it. We always love having you on the show. You know, I had no idea you represented Flagstaff Life, until Sandy said. .”

This isn’t happening. Please tell me this isn’t happening.

“The journalist who wrote the piece is already here,” Zelda’s saying, “and I’ve primed her on what’s happening. I think it’s going to make really great television, the two of you arguing away!”

She starts moving down the corridor, and in the mirror I see Alicia and the eager young man begin to follow her. Then the third overcoated man starts to come into view. And although my stomach’s churning painfully, I can’t stop myself. I slowly turn my head as he passes the door.

I meet Luke Brandon’s grave, dark eyes and he meets mine, and for a few still seconds, we just stare at each other. Then abruptly he looks away and strides off down the corridor. And I’m left, gazing helplessly at my painted reflection, feeling sick with panic.

POINTS FOR TELEVISION INTERVIEW SIMPLE AND BASIC FINANCIAL ADVICE

1. Prefer clock/twenty grand? Obvious.

2. Flagstaff Life ripped off innocent customers. Beware.


Ermm. .


3. Always be very careful with your money.4. Don’t put it all in one investment but diversify.5. Don’t lose it by mistake6. Don’tTHINGS YOU CAN BUY WITH £20,0001. Nice car; e.g., small BMW2. Pearl and diamond necklace from Aspreys plus big diamond ring3. 3 couture evening dresses; e.g., from John Galliano4. Steinway grand piano5. 5 gorgeous leather sofas from the Conran shop6. 40 Gucci watches, plus bag7. Flowers delivered every month for 42 years8. 55 pedigree Labrador puppies9. 80 cashmere jumpers10. 666 Wonderbras11. 454 pots Helena Rubinstein moisturizer12. 800 bottles of champagne13. 2,860 Fiorentina pizzas14. 15,384 tubes of Pringles15. 90,909 packets of Polo mints16.