'Right,' I say nonchalantly. But suddenly I can't quite breathe. Heaven Sent 7? But I mean… they're really famous! And I'm appearing on the same show as them! I'll get to meet them and everything, won't I? Maybe we'll all go out 'for a drink afterwards 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 hairspray, face powder and coffee.

It's basically my idea of heaven.

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

'Fine,' I say, unable to stop a delighted grin spreading over my face 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.

God, what a great job. I always knew I should have become a makeup artist.

'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 towelling band. In the background, the radio's playing my favourite song by Lenny Kravitz. This couldn't be more perfect.

'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 eye shadows, blends a couple of colours together, then picks up a brush. 'So, are you a financial expert, then?'

'Well,' I say, and give a modest little shrug. '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 he says the word "tax-year", my mind glazes over.'

I'm about to reply sympathetically, The too!' and launch into a nice girly chat. But just in time I realize that might not sound too good. I am supposed to be a financial expert, after all.

'It's all quite simple, really,' I say instead, and flash a confident little smile. 'Once you get the hang of the three basic principles.'

'Really?' says the dark-haired girl, and pauses, hair drier in hand. 'What are they, then?'

'Oh,' I say, clearing my throat. 'Erm, well, the first one is…' I pause, and rub my nose. God, my mind's completely blank.

'Sorry, Rebecca,' says Chloe, 'I'm going to have to interrupt.' Thank goodness for that. '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. 'That's fantastic!'

'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! Graphs … figures…'

'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 per cent 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? But I don't have any 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 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 heart's thumping hard and 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! I just can't do it. I don't have any opinions, I don't have any facts, I don't know anything…

Oh God, 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 Zen.

Think happy thoughts.

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 has a folder bulging with papers. The blond woman's coat is rather nice, I find myself thinking. And she's got a ponyskin Fendi baguette. 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. It's Alicia from Brandon Communications, 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

No. Oh no. Suddenly I feel rather cold.

'Luke!' comes Zelda's voice from the corridor, and my stomach starts to churn. '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…'

In the mirror, I can see my face draining of colour.

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 mistake

6. Don't


THINGS YOU CAN BUY WITH Ј20,000


1. Nice car eg small BMW

2. Pearl and diamond necklace from Asprey's plus big diamond ring

3. 3 couture evening dresses eg from John Galliano

4. Steinway grand piano

5. 5 gorgeous leather sofas from the Conran shop

6. 52 Gucci watches, plus bag

7. Flowers delivered every month for forty-two years

8. 55 pedigree… labrador puppies

9. 80 cashmere jumpers

10. 666 Wonderbras

11. 454 pots Helena Rubinstein moisturizer

12. 800 bottles of champagne

13. 2,860 Fiorentina pizzas

14. 15,384 tubes of Pringles

15. 90,909 packets of Polos

Twenty

By 11.25 I'm sitting on a brown upholstered chair in the green room. I'm dressed in a midnight-blue Jasper Conran suit, sheer tights and a pair of suede high heels.

What with my makeup and blown-dry hair, I've never looked smarter in my life. But I can't relish my appearance. I can't enjoy any of it. All I can think of is the fact that in fifteen minutes, I've got to sit on a sofa and discuss high-powered finance with Luke Brandon on live television.

The very thought of it makes me feel like crying. Or laughing. I mean, it's like some kind of sick joke. Luke Brandon against me. Luke Brandon, with his genius IQ and bloody photographic memory – against me. He'll walk all over me. He'll massacre me.