I laughed. ‘Don’t be stupid. You’re living in fantasy land. I’m his girlfriend, get it? His real, actual girlfriend. You’re just some silly girl with a crush who’s come to stay.’

‘I’m the mother of his child.’

I laughed again. It was so ridiculous. But then Annalise put hands to her stomach. It was round and solid-looking under a flowery summer dress.

I stared at her. My hand went to my own stomach, and to the scar running across my abdomen.

‘Who’s the father?’ I asked, swallowing thickly.

‘I told you. Michael.’

‘Come on, Annalise. Who’s the real father? Is that why you left your mother’s house? Because you were pregnant and didn’t want her to find out?’

‘Michael is the father,’ said Annalise again. ‘We’re in love. He’s going to divorce Diane and marry me.’

I laughed. ‘You’re just a dumb kid making up stories. You probably got pregnant by some roadie on tour and now you want Michael to be your happily ever after. Been there, got the T-shirt. But I got there first. So it’s not going to happen for you. Michael loves me.’

I stormed right downstairs to the lounge, where I found Michael entertaining two journalists – both women. They were laughing, while Michael topped up champagne glasses and offered cucumber sandwiches.

I hesitated, feeling sickly terror. Interrupting Michael when he had guests … there would be consequences. I felt them in every sinew of my lean body. But I couldn’t stop myself.

‘Michael.’ My voice was shaking.

Michael’s eyes lit with anger when he saw me in the door way. ‘Excuse me, ladies. My assistant has come to bother me when I’m meeting important people.’ His words and lips were tight. ‘Lorna here is my Girl Friday. She’s here to do the very dusty and thankless job of stocktaking merch out there in the cottage. I should lock the door to keep her out there. She’s always sneaking into the house for tea breaks.’

The two female journalists laughed.

‘I need to talk to you,’ I said.

Michael’s black eyes burned. ‘Not now, okay?’

‘No. Now.’ I smiled at the journalists. ‘Sorry. Urgent stock taking business.’

‘Back in a minute,’ Michael told the women. ‘Top up your champagne glasses, ladies. I don’t want to see them run dry.’

We went to the kitchen and Michael said, ‘This better be an emergency or you’re out of here. I mean it.’

‘Annalise says she’s pregnant and you’re the father.’

‘What?’ Michael blinked at me. ‘She said what?’

‘She says you’re the father of her child. It’s not true, is it?’

‘Of course it’s not true.’ Michael glanced back at the kitchen door.

‘She looks pregnant.’

‘What are you girls doing talking to each other anyway?’

‘Is she pregnant, Michael?’