‘I don’t like the idea of sneaking around. Why can’t you just tell the press you and your wife have split up? People separate all the time. What’s the big deal?’

‘You have to be able to handle this, Lorna,’ said Michael, topping up my champagne glass. ‘Drink this down, there’s a girl. When all is said and done, I’m a married man.’

‘But if we’re together—’

‘Diane and I … it’s complicated. I told you from the start I was still married. If you can’t handle this stuff, then I’ll fly you back home right now.’

‘You said you and your wife weren’t together. Do you still love her? You must do if you want to hide me away.’ Tears came and I tried to get up, but Michael grabbed my arm and pulled me down.

‘Jesus, Lorna, calm down. What are you, a drama queen or something? A hysteric? If I wanted one of those, I’d have taken my wife on tour. You wanted to come on the bus. You wanted to be one of the big girls. If you can’t handle being a grown-up, go home. This is no place for kids.’

‘I don’t want to sneak around and hide. If you and your wife are really separated—’

‘Christ, Lorna, do you even have a brain?’ He tapped my forehead sharply. ‘Is everything firing okay in there? One of our biggest songs right now is “Fever Few” and everyone thinks I wrote it about Diane. No one can know we’re not together. It would kill our record sales.’

‘Did you write it about her?’

‘I write a new song every day. I don’t know what or why I’m writing the words half the time. It might have been about you, for all I know.’

‘You wrote it five years ago.’

‘I had a feeling that someone like you was coming along.’ He hit me with a mesmerizing stare. ‘Listen to me. Diane will be humiliated if photos of you and me come out in the gutter press. Would you put the poor woman through something like that? She’s a Catholic girl at heart. Divorce is a sin. She doesn’t understand the world like you do.’

‘So … what? You’re never going to divorce her?’

‘Marriage is just a piece of paper. What we have is so much bigger than that, right? We’re soul mates.’ Michael took my hands. ‘Help me out, okay? And help Diane out – she’s already heartbroken, poor girl. Let’s not make it any harder for her.’

‘I don’t like the idea of sneaking around.’

‘It won’t be for long. But listen, I’m thinking of you too. You don’t want the press in your face, writing stories about you, the marriage wrecker.’

‘I don’t care.’