My eyes are clear, bright and super shiny indeed. My skin is radiant, with just a hint of rosy gorgeousness – you’d never guess I’d spent the best part of ten minutes sobbing to myself inside a cupboard. I check again, scrupulously. Highlighted by silvery-blue shadows and mascara piled as thick as you like, my pupils are what I’d confidently describe as iridescently lilac. My lips are so glossily delicious, I almost want to snog myself. Most miraculously, Poppy has given me the appearance of jutting cheekbones

‘Poppy, how did you do this?’ I ogle my reflection, unabashed as Poppy watches me, grinning. ‘Actually, don’t tell me. It might spoil “the magic”. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.’

I’m assailing Poppy with my linguistic zeal when she interrupts to remind me this isn’t the time to be indulging her.

‘Don’t forget your meeting starts shortly,’ she says, tapping a steady finger against her fuchsia-banded, glow-in-the-dark (I’m sure she explained to me once) wristwatch.

Despite my seriously hot new look, I shiver.

Moments later, I find Faith in the corridor, searching for me.

‘Weren’t we meeting at your studio?’ She kisses me on both cheeks. ‘Darling, you look amazing!’

It is amazing what a makeover can do for a woman.

‘All thanks to Poppy.’ When Faith appears surprised, I acknowledge, ‘I know. But… voilà.’ I flash a million-dollar smile.

‘Stunning,’ Faith confirms.

Faith and I have known each other since primary school, before her breasts – and my hips – swelled. Faith was quieter back then; I was the gregarious class clown. These days, it’s more likely to be Faith kicking up her designer heels. (Faith has an expensive wardrobe and she doesn’t keep it for special occasions.) Naturally slender, she grew into her perfect C-cups by the time we finished at Our Lady’s School for Girls of Perpetual Mercy, in Surrey, where both our parents still live. My best friend has always worn her naturally blonde-streaked hair long and, these days, when it looks sexily tousled, it’s with good reason: Faith hops from one passionate dalliance to another, from whichever barrister or barista has taken her fancy for the week. Her eyes, set widely apart, are a kaleidoscope of greens and golds. With the faintest spattering of freckles, Faith is exquisitely beautiful. She’s practically feline.