‘I wish I was one of the kitchen girls. You all seem to be having so much fun,’ Sandra said.

Simi blinked at her, stunned. After years of envying Sandra, now Simi had something she wanted? Life – it made no sense. Sandra Scott was the walking, talking epitome of an unobtainable perfection. Everyone from classmates to family, the media and more had drummed into Simi that fair skin, straight hair, long nails, good eyelashes, thin waists, long calves, hairless arms, thin ankles, small ears and a million other traits, were good and what Simi had wasn’t. Perhaps it would help Sandra to know just how revered she is, thought Simi.

Sandra stopped nudging her food around and seemed to deflate. ‘The funny thing is, Simi, I was always jealous of you.’

Simi stared back at Sandra, dumbfounded. Of what? she puzzled.

‘You’re naturally gorgeous. You’ve got this beautiful, thick hair, lovely, clear skin, You never have to bother with false anything. I was always intimidated by that. At auditions, I feel like I have to compensate,’ said Sandra.

Life from Sandra’s side of the table didn’t look anything like Simi had imagined. Sandra wasn’t like Meagan, using her beauty embellishments to reveal herself. She used them to hide. Simi listened, agog as Sandra explained that she kept her lank hair under a weave because it was getting greyer by the day. Her nails were brittle so she covered them with gels and though it did her dry skin no good she always wore make-up – even in the gym. And all of that was shrouded behind a big, confident smile. Simi squeezed Sandra’s hand.

‘You are beautiful and a brilliant actor. Speak to the director because what Cameron’s doing is bullying and no one should have to put up with that.’

They sat, holding hands in a bonded stillness.

‘Call me Morenike. That’s my real name,’ Sandra whispered with a vulnerable smile.

Simi blinked. ‘You’re Nigerian?’

Sandra nodded conspiratorially and Simi squeezed Morenike’s hand even more.

‘We have so much to talk about. We should totally hang out,’ she said, excitedly.

‘I would love that,’ Morenike replied.

As the two of them sat grinning together, the dining truck wobbled and Kelly stepped on. ‘Okay guys, that’s lunch. Sorry for the delay but, Simi, girls, we’ll be coming to the kitchen scene next.’

‘Right,’ replied Simi.

She got up and squished round to Morenike’s side of the table to give her a hug. ‘It’ll be alright,’ she whispered.

Quickly, Simi shovelled down a mouthful of food and stuffed a bread roll in her apron. A moment later, zigzagging between the cluster of Winnebagos, she wondered how she had got Sandra so wrong. Far from being this impeccable, impenetrable automaton, Morenike was just as vulnerable as she, if not more. Simi was looking forward to getting to know her new friend, Morenike.

She stepped onto her trailer and immediately was struck by a beautiful aroma, the glorious scent of two enormous bouquets on her coffee table. She dashed over, plucking a card from the first bunch.