Before I could struggle any further to be her ‘friend’, just like all those punters in the past had tried to be mine, we were there. Pull yourself together, Maggie, I told myself firmly. But my hands were actually shaking. It was so odd to be here on the other side. The green room was alive with people and light, the buzz and hum of adrenaline and apprehension. The buzz of attention, of being ‘the one’, the vital one. Everyone was bathed in the horrible neon light that yellowed the skin and made the eyes look dead. The banks of croissants and egg-and-cress sandwiches were already dry and curling; the orange juice was spilt in brilliant pools on the white linen. What was I doing here? Would they see inside me; know I’d sold my soul? I looked for Sally, then for the wine – but Charlie found me first.

‘Maggie, darling.’ The emphasis was on darling as he kissed me on both cheeks, his face lingering a little too long next to mine, his Ralph Lauren jumper tied in that silly knot over his breast-bone. His aftershave was as noxious as ever.

‘I could murder a drink.’ I was just a little too bright. I contemplated him for a moment. Then I leaned forward and asked, quietly, ‘You are sure about this, Charlie? I’m struggling a bit with my –’

He clasped my hand, a little too hard, his hooded eyes veiled. ‘Not going to back out now, are you, darling?’

I winced. It wasn’t a question.

‘Daisy, get Maggie a drink, would you? A wine.’

Kinky-boots smiled at him, tossing her hair becomingly, and fetched me a drink. Begrudgingly. She’d go far.

‘What?’ Now Charlie leaned in to catch my words, his hair-oil glinting in the light. Had I spoken aloud? ‘Don’t freak out on me, Maggie, please.’

‘I’m really nervous. This is very –’

‘Exciting? I knew you’d see it my way in the end.’

Did I have a choice? ‘I was going to say … I’m really not sure that –’

‘Don’t be silly.’ He looked impatient. ‘We’ve been through all this. It’s going to make the show.’

‘What is?’

He leaned forward so only I could hear. ‘And, of course, it’s your absolute last chance. Don’t fuck up. Again.’

‘But –’ I began, as Sally peered round the door. I was so glad to see her that I cried her name much too loudly. Her jolly broad face was uncharacteristically tense. She smiled back, but even her dimples were subdued. Stress was definitely winning the day.

‘Babe.’ Her eyes flicked round the room. ‘Daisy,’ she said as she found her target, gesturing frantically, ‘has the anti turned up yet?’

‘What anti?’ I frowned.

‘Oh, don’t worry. They’re not for you.’