For this penultimate episode, by popular demand, Toby is back on set. Him and Faith will be smooching and making googly eyes at each other for the cameras, just as they’re doing in real life.

Toby walks into the studio, looking even more handsome than I remember.

‘Hi Toby, welcome back to where it all began,’ I say.

Today, he isn’t wearing his green contacts. His real eyes are warm brown with golden flecks. He’s like a manly, sexy panther to Faith’s hot, sultry minx.

‘Hey Gracie, good to see you.’ We kiss cheeks.

Faith saunters out of the dressing area in a fiercely fitted little cream dress, her hair twisted in a loose chignon, her eye make-up smoky.

Toby brushes her lips with a kiss and slides his hand around her waist.

Faith asks if I can teach her how to cook a proper breakfast on the show today – perfectly poached eggs and all.

Love… it’s in the air and all around.

I smile at Faith and she beams at me.

Harry hasn’t made the recording today. I haven’t seen him all week. He’s had other clients to attend to and our contracts to negotiate. He called yesterday to tell me SC6 agreed to a new series, with a substantial pay increase, and that Joanna had floated the idea of shooting the next season in LA. Faith is happy to do another season and convert her sabbatical from venture capitalism into a resignation, but she isn’t keen on LA – for starters, she doesn’t want to uproot Benny. Fat chance she’d leave him for even a few months. So it isn’t something I need to consider. We’re a team, on this show. We’re a squad.

Harry hasn’t mentioned the TIARAs again.

The one thing that has been playing on my mind is that I need to find a date for the blasted thing. I have but ten days’ time to sort it.

After we wrap, Poppy and I venture to La Petite Place Française for wine and nibbles. Faith rushed off with Toby, something about his UK visa. She promised to join us next time. Unaccompanied by Faith, Gaspard seats us in a cosy corner downstairs, behind the cast-iron staircase. Poppy and I order an exquisite assortment of aged cheeses and fresh, crusty bread to accompany the delicious white wine. The Chardonnay has blissful notes of pineapple. The Brie de Meaux is to die for, as is the triple-cream Billat-Savarin, though I’m trying not to be gluttonous – I don’t want to undo my recent dedication to an exercise regime with a cheese-belly. Pouring our second glass of thirty-eight pounds a bottle vino – the fruity aftertaste makes it worth every penny – I ask Poppy her opinion of the shoot today.

‘It was very romantic, wouldn’t you say?’