Cameras rolling, Ben bounces through the false door and obliges with suggestive play aplenty. He waves his whirring, electric toothbrush about, none of us mentioning the word ‘vibrator’. When choosing ingredients, he insists we slip him a sliver of the scientifically modified mega-hot chilli. Daring us to crank up the heat, he declares himself ‘hot to handle’. After he chases Faith around the bench, I don’t regret serving it up to him. Biting down bold as brass, within seconds, Ben’s face inflames to plum. He runs around the set, his mouth on fire. I stop him with an offer of a drink of milk and he douses with a whole half-litre. We send him to lay down on the sofa to recover and Faith prepares to cook. At the end of the show, Ben, a total sport, rejoins us and we share a laugh over the incident and polish off delicious (non-spiked) Mexican chicken tortillas. Joanna hails it another steamy success.

Harry, Faith and I are loitering in the corridor when Zelda whooshes by and offers Faith a free reading. With a chuckle, Harry leaves us to it. You girls have fun,’ he says, heading off to wherever he’s needed next. Excited to hear her future fortune, Faith asks me to accompany her.

Zelda’s studio is decorated like a gypsy’s lair on a full-moon night. Darkened windows. Pitch-black painted walls, ceiling and floor. Above, soft-yellow lights – stars, planets and the moon – emit an eerie glow. Her stage is shrouded by heavy red curtains and is gaudily decorated like an old-fashioned caravan.

Zelda guides Faith up the steps to the platform. Faith drags me along. I drop into the brown leather wing-chair. Faith sits cross-legged on the rug in front of me. Zelda faces her from her three-legged stool. We’re the only people in here.

Zelda reaches across her crystal ball that rests on a pedestal between them. She runs her bejewelled fingers over Faith’s cheekbones. ‘Such an interesting face.’

‘Thank you,’ Faith says.

‘So, this new show is bit rude? You bring the men,’ she looks at Faith, ‘and there is cooking?’ Zelda glances at me before turning back to face Faith. ‘But is rude, no?’

‘A little bit, Zelda.’ Faith laughs. ‘And yes, I’m the one with the dates.

‘Please, tell Zelda all about this new eating show. Everybody talking. Big, big hit.’