‘Get your phone,’ Magda says, knowing full well that Evie doesn’t like it but that it means too much to the woman to turn her down. Who is going to see it anyway? It doesn’t matter that much.

They take the picture and Evie buys the sweaters, plus two pairs of trousers, a camisole and three pairs of earrings, and when they leave, she feels strange.

‘You did good in there, friend, letting yourself be appreciated. I know it’s not your thing.’

‘I just find it so awkward,’ Evie admits. ‘Like … they’re just books.’

‘Books that mean things to people. Didn’t you say Duke read you before he met you? That he just likes the way you see the world?’

‘Yeah,’ says Evie. ‘So he says. What’s your point?’

‘So when are you gonna let yourself enjoy this success? You coop up in that house, you don’t do press or events, you’re getting a freakin’ movie made for Chrissakes, with more on the way by the sounds of it … I just … I don’t get it. I really don’t.’

Evie goes quiet. She thought her friend understood her.

‘I just … don’t deserve any of it,’ Evie settles on. ‘I really don’t. I’m not worth anything. Not worth sticking around for. None of it is real, and everybody leaves. This will probably all end soon enough. Everything does.’

‘No,’ coos Magda. ‘I don’t leave.’

‘Everybody except you, then,’ concedes Evie. ‘I guess the point is: if I don’t have expectations, I can’t be upset when they’re not met. So … here I am. Expecting nothing, from anybody, ever, not even nice people who pay money for my stories. I don’t even trust them. Hell, most of the time I don’t even trust myself.’

Magda shakes her head like she can’t believe what Evie is saying. ‘That’s the saddest thing I ever heard,’ she says. ‘We have to fix this.’

‘I’ve tried,’ Evie tells her, her face impassive and serious. ‘I’m broken. The lady ain’t for fixing. Just let me get on with my life.’

‘Hmm,’ Magda says, concerned. ‘I just don’t think I can do that.’

‘You look awful,’ Evie tells Duke as he opens the door of his trailer up to her. ‘I came to see how you are, but …’

‘But you thought you’d rub salt in the wound a bit instead? Marvellous. Thank you.’ He’s not exactly smiling as he says it, but he sounds light-hearted enough. He does look terrible, though, with dark circles under his eyes, and sadness etched into his features. Like he’s exhausted and carrying something heavy – which, Evie reasons, he is. ‘Come in,’ he adds.

His trailer is shades of cream, with a big sofa and a few vases of fresh flowers and a small kitchen with a coffee machine and kettle.