‘Well, I’m sure he is nice. But that doesn’t mean he’s doing the right thing, being over-protective. Some men are just like that, aren’t they? They like control.’ For the first time today I felt almost impassioned. Almost. ‘They want to know where their women are at every moment, whether –’

Renee was bearing down on me. She had absolutely no time for what she’d term ‘feminist claptrap’ on her show: too worthy, not enough blood and guts.

‘So, Maggie –’

I recognised that tone.

‘You’ve had to have some help yourself, eh, sweetheart?’

I couldn’t field it in time. The air crackled around me and my face froze. She knew. I stared at the floor in front of me as she paced before my chair. But what exactly did she know? Her leather boots were very high, as pointed as a cartoon witch’s.

‘You shouldn’t be ashamed, babes.’

Charlie had betrayed me: he must have done.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked, so terribly caring, they thought. ‘You look a little tearful.’

‘Oh no,’ I blurted. ‘Sorry. It’s just the flowers.’ I waved vaguely behind me. ‘Lilies. I – I don’t like – I get a weird reaction, you know.’ I would never tell the truth here. ‘Hayfever.’

‘Share your feelings with us, Maggie. Come on, don’t be shy.’ Her voice dropped to a singsong lilt; its cruelty wrapped up carefully in coruscating kindness. ‘Perhaps we can help you, eh, Maggie?’ She raised her eyes to the audience. Her audience.

The air felt electric now; it sizzled round my head. Everybody waited. I could sense Charlie on his haunches, as expectant as a gundog waiting to collect its kill. Panic began to build in me.

Fernandez was sick of being overlooked. He pulled his lip over yellow teeth and unwittingly dispelled the tension.

‘So this is exactly what I mean in my latest book, Shadows in a Modern World. Often we ignore situations that we are –’

Renee held up an imperious hand. He’d blown it. ‘Thank you, Mr Fernandez –’

‘Doctor Fernandez.’

‘Sorry, Doctor Fernandez,’ she spat each syllable out like a small piece of dirt, ‘but I think we really need to know a little more about how tragedy affects the everyday life of our guests. How exactly do you drag yourself out of bed in the morning if you’ve lost the love of your life? Please give a huge round of applause to someone who can tell us – let’s welcome Lesley Quentin, widow of Stan, the brave driver who gave his life so heroically that night.’

I didn’t think poor old Stan had had much of a chance to prove his heroism that night actually. Fay was staring at me with a beatific expression on her gorgeous little face. And it was starting to seriously unnerve me.