To be fair, she had actually achieved her childhood ambition and, after a brief stint modelling clothes for Henrik’s online store, had picked up a couple of bit parts in some of the soaps, before landing a reasonably large role in a low-budget horror film. That in turn had led to a successful modelling career for a high-end fashion house. The downside was that it had also attracted her a legion of dedicated male fans – most of them trouble. Dorothy had never met anyone who had dated as many lowlifes and losers as Chantelle.

What continued to impress Dorothy, however, was that despite the reasonable success that her career had brought her Chantelle had stayed close to home. Getting herself a flat in the same block as her mum and her gran, shopping in the same local stores as she always had still, drinking in the same pubs … In fact the only way you’d have known that she was famous at all was from the covers of dozens of glossy fashion magazines featuring her that hung framed on virtually every wall.

It wasn’t just the fierce family loyalty that made Dorothy want to keep in touch with her. Chantelle had used some of her earnings to set up an anti-knife crime initiative in the area, putting money into youth centres, skateboard parks and libraries. Dorothy had actually tried to get her to join A Charitable Earth on several occasions, but Chantelle kept turning her down. She liked her modelling career and, despite the man-trouble, she liked the party-girl lifestyle that went with it.

This morning, however, she was looking like she might be regretting that last part. Dorothy spooned a heaped teaspoon of instant coffee into each of the mugs, filled them both with boiling water and then handed one to Chantelle.

‘Here. I get the impression you might need it.’

Chantelle grunted something unintelligible and made her way into the lounge, pushing aside a pair of discarded Louis Vuitton jeans and slumping down on the elegant sofa.

‘What are you doing here, anyway?’

‘I need a bit of info,’ said Dorothy, following her.

‘Info that couldn’t wait until a civilised time of the morning?’

‘Given that your idea of a “civilised time” is gone noon, no.’

Chantelle glared at her. ‘You know, you only ever get in touch when you want something, Miss CEO. You never just want to go out for a chat or a drink any more.’

‘Can’t keep up with you, can I?’ Dorothy said breezily. ‘Please. It’s important.’

‘It always is …’ Chantelle sighed. ‘OK … What is it you’re after?’

Dorothy told her about the programme she had watched, about the alien abductions, the missing girls, the strange noises and the research that she had done linking a large number of those events to Perivale.