I winced as Amanda complied wordlessly then rushed out onto the floor again. ‘Okay, guys. Thirty seconds and counting. Settle down, please, though do keep up the great energy. You’re a fantastic audience, aren’t they, Renee?’

Renee was centre-stage again, extending her scarlet talons before her to give the audience a little clap. The lilies stank. I shrank down in my chair.

‘Darlings,’ she dropped her voice subtly, then spread her arms wide to include each and every one of them, ‘I’m going to let you into a little secret, all right?’

Oh yes, it was more than all right. They actually craned forward. Infinitesimal pause. Wait, wait, wait …

‘You’re my best audience of the year so far. And’, they craned a little further, ‘it’s not far off Christmas – so what does that say?!’

They whooped with joy. They had no idea she said this every show. And if they did know, if they were old regulars, why would they care? They were Renee’s special audience, today, here and now – and that was all that mattered.

‘And we’re back in five, four, three, two –’ Amanda finished her count. The title music blared. Renee composed herself, flung on her tragedian robe so grandly.

Fernandez and Draper had a row. Charlie looked a little happier. Fay talked about how terrified her parents had been when they turned on the news and saw the accident before they’d heard from her. The plant in the audience tried to stir things up even more by asking me whether I thought trauma was to be expected if we all led such adventurous lives and didn’t just stay at home and mind the kids. I pointed out as coolly as I could that I didn’t have kids and travelling down the motorway to get home in a National Express coach because my car had broken down outside Bristol (they didn’t need to know the truth) hardly constituted adventure.

Then Renee started on the relationships. I licked my dry lips anxiously, but the wine was going a little way in protecting my poor aching heart. Only a little way, though. Fay, on the other hand, was basking in it all. Warhol’s ‘fifteen-minute fame game’ had truly taken hold; the fluffy rabbit of celebrity was tantalising the quivering greyhound.

‘You know,’ she blinked up at Renee, her voice all small and wounded again, ‘I’ve found it very hard with Troy since the accident.’

Troy!

‘Darling.’ Renee crossed the floor in a grand swirling gesture, the batwings flapping. Fay looked tiny beside her. ‘Can you share, babes? Can you tell us why?’

My good toes curled. Fay breathed deeply. Renee took her hand. ‘Just take a minute, please, Fay. There’s no rush.’

Charlie’s frantic checking of his watch belied her words. Fay breathed again.

‘Okay? Come on, then, tell Auntie Renee.’ Gently, she coaxed it out of her.