‘We’re mere mortals, on an all-expenses-paid trip to Hollywoodland. None of this is normal. I don’t know how seriously to take everyone, you know? That director being off his rocker back there, people photographing you secretly, pretend romances and secret hugs, not to mention how those are two very good-looking people. You are a solid ten in the real world, you really are – but have you seen Daphne’s hair? It’s like there’s a light box behind her at all times. Even in the restaurant she glowed. And her boobs? That’s some rack.’

Evie narrows her eyes at her friend. ‘Sounds like you like her, let alone Duke.’

‘Out of my league,’ Magda says with a laugh. ‘Which is entirely my point.’

‘Whoa!’ Evie giggles. ‘Thanks, babe.’

‘What about that sweater?’ Magda asks, nodding in the direction of another storefront. ‘It’s very Cameron Diaz in The Holiday, no?’

‘Yes,’ notes Evie. ‘You’d look good in it.’

The pair push through the door of the boutique, still laughing loudly enough that the sales assistant looks up.

‘Guten Morgen,’ she says, a serious-looking thirty-something with pale pink hair and a diamond nose stud.

‘Guten Morgen,’ the friends echo back, stifling their giggles. They move around the store, picking things out, making appreciative noises, the beady eyes of the assistant following them from behind the counter.

‘Evie?’ asks Magda from the other side of the rack. ‘What about this shade of red? It’s more flattering, right? I could do this?’

‘For sure.’ Evie nods. ‘Yeah. You know I saw a woman at the restaurant last night who had a silk scarf around her neck even though she was wearing a high neck like that, and I thought it looked so chic. Maybe I’ll look for that shape, too.’

‘You need help?’ the sales assistant asks.

‘Erm,’ Evie ponders. She’s kind of scared of the woman. Aren’t customer service representatives supposed to be more congenial? ‘Sure,’ she settles on. ‘Do you have any sweaters with the high necks, like the one my friend is holding? Maybe in cream, or grey?’

The woman nods and bustles around the store. As she hands Evie exactly what she has asked for, in both shades, she says, ‘Evie Bird, yes?’

Evie is so stunned to be recognised in this tiny shop that she simply nods. It’s Magda who appears by her side and speaks for her. ‘The famous novelist? Yes, this is her!’ she supplies.

‘Oh my goodness! My friends won’t believe this!’ the woman suddenly cries, her excited face in direct contrast to the sternness from seconds ago. ‘We love you! We have all your books. The Sun in My Sky is my favourite book ever, I think. I can’t believe you are here, in my store. Can I get a selfie?’

‘Oh …’ Evie stammers, unsure how to respond. She doesn’t want to be childish, but she hates that kind of stuff.