‘But we spend a lot of time at his place.’

‘You should join us sometime, Gracie.’

My imagination runs wild!

‘Well, um, yes, that would be lovely,’ I say.

Beginning to feel nauseas, in need of fresh air, or at least a walk around, I politely excuse myself.

Standing up, I’m drunker than I thought I was. On top of which, Faith’s ankle boots are less supportive than I’m used to walking in. One dainty step in front of the other, I navigate my way out of the VIP area and up the stairs to another bar. The music is quieter up here and people are chatting in cosy clusters. A photographer works her way around the room, camera at the ready.

A slender bald man grabs my waist. ‘Having a good time?’ he slurs.

‘Ah, mm.’ The photographer squeezes her way in front of us. ‘A lovely time, thank you,’ I say. She steadies her lens. The man squeezes my waist and grins. I smile. The flash momentarily blinds me.

‘Wonderful! Bye!’ He wanders off to a group of young ladies.

I stand, grinning like a Billy-no-mates, for as long as I can bear it. But with nobody up here to talk to, feeling conspicuous, I escape quickly back down the stairs. The girls are still at our table. Harry is still nowhere to be seen. At the last second, I veer away from the VIP entry and towards the dance floor.

Approaching the lit-up platform, I spot the bouncer who checked us in earlier. I remember Poppy asking and he’d said his name is Duncan. As wide as he is tall, Duncan has pockmarked skin and a flat, shaved head. The music is so loud over here, I have to shout, and even then, Duncan lends me his ear. I ask how long he’s worked here. He reminds me it’s the opening night, which makes me laugh. I mosey on into the thick of the dance floor where I’m stopped by a good-looking girl, about my build.

‘Oh my gosh, excuse me,’ she says. ‘Sorry to pester you – you must get this all the time. Are you Gracie, from the new show on SC6? You look so much like her!’

‘That’s me,’ I say, a little cheesily. It feels weird, and a bit wonderful, being recognised. Apart from the occasional housewife in Sainsbury’s, it never happened to me in the days of Gracie Porter’s Gourmet Get-Together. ‘What’s your name? I love your dress!’