‘If you can’t see it, then I don’t know how to explain,’ Tarquin finishes at last.

‘Well, I can’t,’ says Suze angrily.

In silence, Tarquin heads up the stairs, his Frisbee dangling at his side. I exchange anxious glances with Luke, then look at Suze. She’s standing with her hands on her hips, her cheeks puffed out defiantly.

‘Suze!’ I hiss as soon as Tarkie is out of earshot. ‘What’s your problem?’

‘I don’t know. I just …’ She exhales. ‘I just don’t like that guy. He winds me up.’

He winds her up. Well, that proves it. She does fancy him, even if she doesn’t realize it herself. It’s a sexual chemistry thing and she’s trying to resist it and taking it out on poor Tarkie with an irrational prejudice. Boom! Diagnosed!

Honestly, I should go into psychology. I’ve clearly got a real knack for it.

‘You don’t know what Tarkie’s like,’ Suze continues. ‘You haven’t seen him much recently. He’s started saying weird things. He’s changed.’

Yes, and that’s a good thing! I want to exclaim. Have you forgotten what a wreck he was? But now isn’t the moment.

‘Look, never mind,’ I say soothingly. ‘Let’s go out and have some fun and talk about it another time.’

The truth is, Suze could probably do with some sea-talking-natural-healing-soul-finding stuff herself. (Only I won’t say that because she’d probably stamp on my foot, and she’s wearing her spikiest Louboutins.)

The Actors’ Society Awards are being held at the Willerton Hotel and according to the programme they are for ‘lesser-known actors whose art may not find recognition elsewhere’. The trouble is, the whole place is stuffed full of major celebrities, so the poor old ‘lesser-known actors’ aren’t getting a look-in. I’ve already seen Diane Kruger and Hugh Jackman and the blonde one off that show with the kangaroo. And now the photographers outside are yelling ‘Tom! Tom!’ in a total frenzy, although whether it’s Cruise or Hanks I don’t know.

(Or Selleck?)

(Or some other new hot Tom I don’t know about?)

At least there was only one red carpet this time, not that my feet touched it for more than thirty seconds. All the stars were posing on one side for the photographers, while we lesser mortals were pushed along briskly by men in headsets who were practically holding cattle prods. I mean, I was virtually running, and Suze twisted her ankle.

‘Best Hairspray,’ says Suze, nodding at a woman with rocksolid hair.

‘Best Fake Boobs,’ I chime in, pointing to a girl striding by in a strapless dress.

‘Ooh, look! Best Producer Being Mean to Her Assistant,’ says Suze, gesturing at a scrawny woman in a tux, who is talking fiercely through the side of her mouth at a young girl who looks like she might start crying.

The actual awards don’t start for another whole hour, and as far as I can see, neither Sage nor Lois are here yet. Suze says her ankle is too painful to mill around, and Tarkie has disappeared off with a friend of his from volleyball, so we’re sitting at our table with glasses of wine, giving out our own awards.

‘I saw that girl in the loos.’ Suze nudges me as a beautiful red-haired girl walks by. ‘She gets Best Use of Concealer. And Best Drying Her Armpits under the Hot-Air Dryer— Oh!’ She breaks off. ‘April! Hello!’

I swivel round and gulp. There’s April Tremont, looking very slinky in a peacock-blue dress. And standing next to her is …

Oh my God. My heart suddenly starts bumping in my chest.

‘Lois, may I introduce Rebecca Brandon?’ says April. ‘Rebecca, this is Lois Kellerton.’

Seeing celebrities in real life is like seeing a Magic Eye, I’ve decided. At first they seem totally unreal, like a magazine or a film hoarding come to life. Then your eyes gradually adjust and they take on 3D form. And at last they kind of turn into real people. Kind of.

Lois’s face is thinner even than it was when I saw her before. Her skin is so fair it’s almost translucent. Her wavy hair is caught up in a loose knot, and she’s wearing a drifty, silky grey dress that makes her look like a shadow.

‘Hi,’ she says softly.

‘Hi,’ I say awkwardly, holding out my hand. ‘Lovely to … meet you.’

She takes my hand – and I see something snap in her face. She’s realized. She’s recognized me. My stomach clenches in apprehension. How is this going to go?

All credit to Lois, she’s totally kept her cool. Her pupils haven’t even dilated. No one would have any idea we’ve met before. That’s what acting training does for you, I expect.

‘Becky,’ she says slowly.

‘Exactly.’ I swallow. ‘I’m Becky.’

Don’t mention shoplifting, I tell myself firmly. Do not even THINK about shoplifting. The trouble is, the more I tell myself not to think about it, the more I can’t help it. I feel like her secret is dancing up and down inside me, shouting ‘Let me out!’

‘I love macadamias,’ I blurt out in desperation. ‘Don’t you?’

‘I guess so.’ Lois looks puzzled, then adds, ‘So, you want to be a stylist, April tells me.’

‘Becky is a stylist!’ says Suze loyally. ‘She used to work at Barneys as a personal shopper. She’s brilliant. I’m Suze, by the way. I’m in the profession too,’ she adds grandly. ‘I’m a background artist.’

Honestly, what is Suze like? I’m in the profession too.

‘I shopped at Barneys a couple times when I was filming in New York,’ says Lois. ‘I saw … Janet?’

‘Janet was my boss!’ I try not to sound too excited. ‘She taught me everything!’

‘Oh, OK.’ Lois gives me an appraising look. ‘So you know what you’re doing, then.’

‘Becky, I’m so sorry,’ April turns to me, ‘but Cyndi couldn’t make it after all. I was going to get Becky and Cyndi together,’ she explains to Lois.

‘Oh.’ I hide my disappointment. ‘Well, in the meantime …’ I reach for the Art Deco clutch. ‘I brought this along for you.’ I proffer it to Lois. ‘I saw it and it seemed like your style, it’s vintage …’ I trail off and hold my breath.

There’s silence as Lois considers the bag. I feel like I’m in the MasterChef final, and Michel Roux Jr is considering my profiteroles.

‘I like it,’ Lois declares at last. ‘I love it. Sold.’

‘Great!’ I say, trying not to sound too joyful. ‘Well, it’s from this great vintage shop, I go there all the time, I could easily source some more stuff for you …’

‘I’d like that.’ Lois gives me that ravishing, understated smile of hers, the one she does in Tess, when Angel strips off and does a sexy dance for her. (Did that happen in the book? Something tells me maybe not.)

She seems totally sweet and low-key. I can’t understand why people think she’s tricksy. Now she’s looking at her phone and frowning. ‘My agent. I need to go talk to some people. I’ll be back for this delightful thing.’ She puts the bag down on the table. ‘And we’ll talk terms.’

‘But what about Cyndi?’ I say awkwardly. ‘I don’t want to tread on her toes.’

‘You won’t.’ Lois gives a laugh. ‘The truth is, Cyndi’s really too busy to look after me anyway. April always said she would be.’

‘She has too many clients,’ April says ruefully.

‘I don’t have too many clients,’ I say at once, and Lois laughs again.

‘Great, well count me one of them.’ She smiles once more, then heads away, across the crowded room.

‘Next time you go shopping, I’m coming with you,’ says April, smiling. ‘You can find me a purse like that, too.’

‘Of course! And thank you so much for introducing me to Lois.’

‘My pleasure! Thank you so much for pointing out that the scene I was shooting made no sense. They’re still rewriting it, I believe.’ She winks at me. ‘See you girls later.’

She melts away into the crowd, and I gleefully turn to Suze.

‘Did you see that? Lois liked the bag! She wants to talk terms!’

‘Of course she liked the bag!’ says Suze, giving me a hug. ‘Well done, Bex! Lois seems really nice,’ she adds consideringly. ‘I thought she was supposed to be horrible.’

I’m about to say that that’s exactly what I was just thinking too, when Luke’s voice hails me.

‘Darling, are you all right?’ I turn to see him with Aran and two women I don’t recognize, and Sage, who is wearing a silver dress and matching shoes and her hair in a sixties beehive.

‘If that bitch gets it,’ she’s saying furiously. ‘If that crazy bitch gets it …’

‘Sage, calm down,’ Aran murmurs.

‘Having fun?’ says Luke.

‘Yes!’ I say, still glowing. ‘We’re having a great time! Hi, Aran; hi, Sage …’

While I’m introduced to the two women, Sage flops down on a chair, furiously tapping at her phone.

‘What’s up?’ I say quietly to Luke.

‘Lois Kellerton,’ he murmurs back. ‘Florence Nightingale. I have a feeling Lois’s going to get the role. Just don’t mention it, OK?’

‘Oh.’ I feel an uncomfortable twinge. ‘All right.’

I can feel Suze’s eyes burning into me, and I know what she’s trying to say: I should tell Luke that I’m going to start working with Lois Kellerton. She’s right. I should. Only I’m not quite sure how to do it in front of Sage.

Could I text him?

I get out my phone, open a text and start typing:

Luke. I have a new client. It’s Lois Kellerton.

No. Too blunt. I delete the whole thing and try again:

Luke, I have an amazing new opportunity which I don’t want to mention out loud. And I hope you’ll be pleased for me. I THINK you’ll be pleased for me. There may be a very slight conflict of interest, but we can always build Chinese walls, and

Damn. I’ve run out of room. I’m just backspacing again, when Sage looks up from her own phone.

‘Cute purse,’ she says, spying the Art Deco bag and pulling it towards her. ‘Is that yours, Becky?’