When we first met, I’d thought if Harry was a girl, he’d be Faith. I wondered if they’d hook up. Instead, Harry’s become another best friend for me.

At the kitchen set, Carlos knocks a metal bowl to the floor. There’s a loud clang, clang, clang as it skims across the concrete. Carlos shrugs an apology and picks it up.

Harry and I try not to giggle.

He enquires about my plans for the TIARAs. ‘I heard a rumour you haven’t made arrangements for a date?’

With only three nights until the event, I haven’t invited anyone. I thought, initially, Carlos. Then I got cold feet. As the clock ticks, it starting to strike me as a damn fine idea after all.

‘I don’t know what rumour you’ve heard—’ Agent or not, why does Harry go so far out of his way regarding my personal business? Poppy still hasn’t sorted who she’s bringing. He isn’t bothering her about it.

Carlos sidles up beside me and clasps my hand. His grip is strong. His looks are stunning. I could do a lot worse than to be photographed arriving with Carlos for these awards – I could arrive alone.

‘Harry, I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed. Carlos is attending the TIARAs with me, aren’t you, sweetie?’ I give Carlos’s hand a little squeeze. ‘Hmm, we’re going out this Saturday, sí?’

On cue, a beaming Carlos repeats daftly after me, ‘Sí. I go with Crazie, all the day.’

33

Carlos leaves the station merrily, a print out of details for the TIARAs in his hand – I couldn’t find my invitation, but the press office promise to assure my smooth entry on the day. I leave with a golf-ball-sized lump in my throat. Though he was fine on the show, with his broken English and high-energy actions, I regret asking Carlos to such a public occasion. Later, at home, it occurs to me it won’t be at all funny if he rocks up to the TIARAs in his too-tight black trousers. In a state, I call Poppy to check if she wouldn’t mind taking him shopping for a new suit, at my expense. Poppy isn’t as keen as I’d hoped.

‘Angel, why ever did you invite him?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘He won’t fit in.’

‘He’ll fit in even less wearing his salsa outfit. Please, Poppy, will you help?’

I flop onto my bed. I told Carlos not to come over tonight, as I need my sleep. It’s nice having the flat to myself.

‘All right,’ Poppy says. ‘But you’re not coming with us. No offence, but you’re a grumpy shopper and you’ll only be a nuisance.’