‘What a bloody nightmare.’ Jordan runs his hand through his hair. He kisses my cheek. ‘Bloody security wouldn’t let me in. Wouldn’t go and get you to sort it out. Absolute nightmare.’

‘Jordan, I’m sorry.’

‘Never mind, I’m here now. Grace, you look… lovely,’ Jordan says, as if he’s seeing me for the first time.

‘Jordan, you remember Harry?’

‘Of course, we met at the shoot. Harry, good to see you. Thank you, again, for working through the deal with Pussy Paws, the special rates. I know it got you lot out of a bother, but it also got me a promotion.’ Jordan pumps Harry’s hand vigorously. ‘If you have any further opportunities like that, please do get in touch.’

Slipping back in to agent mode, Harry says, ‘As Agent to the Stars, I’m at your service. Right, so, I was highly concerned that a woman who looks this beautiful has more than diamonds to worry about being taken.’ Harry’s eyes meet mine for a second and it lasts a lifetime. ‘Now that Gracie is safely in your company, I must dash. People to see. An agent’s work is never done at these things. I’ll see you later.’

‘Catch you later, Harry,’ Jordan says.

I can’t speak.

Harry is gone.

‘You do look beautiful, Grace.’

‘Thank you, Jordan.’

Moments ago, I’d been aflutter. Now, nothing.

Jordan scans the crowd over my shoulder. ‘Is that your mother?’

Obviously not, though I turn my head to check, tempted to suggest Jordan might not recognise her if it is.

‘Over there.’ He points. ‘In the blue dress, talking with the old Dr Who.’

I look and it is my mother, talking with none other than David Tennant.

I watch as she extracts from her new second-hand sapphire blue clutch purse what I know is an old cookery school photograph of me. In it, I’m seventeen years old, chubby-cheeked with poorly applied liquid eyeliner, wearing my first white chef’s hat. David nods politely and looks earnestly around the room, presumably for me.

‘Jordan, it is my mother.’

‘I thought so.’

‘Golly. I – I’ll go and get her.’

‘Shall I get us all drinks?’

‘Thanks. I’ll meet you back here.’

I dash across the foyer on legs of jelly in my crystal embellished high heels. It was fun playing grown-up television star on the red carpet with the girls. Now, I feel like a little minnow in a very big pond.

‘Grace!’ my mother calls as I draw closer. ‘I was just asking this lovely gentleman if he knows you. David, this is my daughter, Grace,’ she says. ‘Isn’t she lovely?’

Nodding, David says to me, ‘Your mother has been an absolute delight.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Lovely to meet you both, have a wonderful evening.’ He scuttles away.

‘Mummy, what are you doing here?’