‘You’ve got to shut up about my wife. Not one more word about me being married. Things are the way they are with Diane. We’re friends. We’re separated. But we’re not going to divorce anytime soon, and that’s just the way it is. You’ve got to be my cool punk princess who doesn’t care about that stuff. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ I nodded and nodded, relieved at an easy way out of Michael’s bad books. He’d ignored me for days before. ‘Okay. Of course.’ I wiped away tears and managed a smile. ‘Will we go to Ireland where you grew up or will we go to the States or …’ I hesitated as his expression darkened.

‘Don’t get too cocky now, Lorna. Stop with the questions. You know I hate a cocky girl. I have a house here in England. It’s a work in progress, but it’s gonna be a stunner.’

‘I thought … don’t you live in Ireland?’

‘Ireland is my past. England is my future. I’m building a castle. Can you imagine that? King Michael’s castle. And a whole forest to go with it. Every girl’s dream, right? Like a real princess.’

I jumped up and threw my arms around him. ‘I love you, Michael. I love you so much.’

As I was clinging on to Michael for dear life, a woman’s voice, husky and deep, boomed through the speakers: ‘Michael Reyji Ray. Step away from the girl, Michael Reyji Ray. You are a married man.’

Michael pushed me away so hard I nearly fell over. I’d never seen him look afraid before. But when he saw who was talking into the mic – a messy, bleached-blonde woman – his shoulders sagged with relief.

‘Very funny, Cat. You’re hilarious.’

The scruffy blonde woman laughed as she untangled her bare legs from trailing cable. ‘Relax, Michael. Did you think it was Diane? Or a journalist?’ Acres of pale flesh spilt from her barely-there flowery babydoll dress. There was a huge tattoo on her back: Annalise in Celtic lettering.

Michael purses his lips. ‘Tend your own garden, Cat Cannon. You’ve got enough of your own problems, haven’t you? Without getting into mine.’

‘Trying to change the subject?’ The woman clicked the mic into its stand and strolled towards us. ‘It won’t work.’ She slung a heavy, pale arm around Michael’s shoulder. ‘When did you ever get me to shut up?’

‘I don’t think anyone could ever make you shut up, Cat,’ said Michael.

The woman – Cat – gave me a lopsided, red-lipstick smile. ‘What’s your name, honey?’

I wanted to run. Cat didn’t mean to, but she was putting me into a trap. Whatever I said, Michael would be mad at me later. He didn’t like me talking to other people.

‘Lorna,’ I said, head down, glancing at Michael.