I saw glittering metal scaffold rods and piles of bricks, but no house. But when the gates opened and the limo wound through the trees, I finally saw the shell of an English country mansion, some walls half built and the beginnings of weird concrete turrets at the sides.

The house was perfectly Michael: a blended bunch of egos. Country gent, Tudor lord, medieval king and modern millionaire celebrity.

I managed: ‘It’ll be big when it’s finished.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ Michael nodded approvingly. ‘The biggest house in the south-east, as a matter of fact. Acres of land around it. I’ve bought up all of Huntingdon Wood. The whole lot. Your bedroom is in that turret there.’ Michael pointed.

‘My bedroom? Won’t we share a bedroom?’

‘Don’t you want your own space? We’ve been cooped up on a tour bus for months on end.’

‘No, I want to be with you. Like a normal couple.’

‘Normal is boring. Forget about normal.’

‘Michael—’

‘Come on, Lorna. Not today.’

I downed the last of my rum and Coke.

‘Whose is that quad bike?’ I asked, seeing a red all-terrain vehicle sitting near the moat wall. ‘Yours?’

‘Oh. Yeah. That’s a new toy. To go racing around the woods on. They’re vast, these grounds.’

‘Can I ride it one day?’

‘Not on your own. I’ll take you.’

Of course not on my own. Giving me even the tiniest bit of power was too dangerous. Keys to a vehicle? No way.

As we pulled up by the moat bridge, Michael sat up tall in his seat. His arm came across to hold me in place, even though I was strapped in.

‘Stay here, Lorna. Okay?’

I followed his gaze. There was a beautiful woman outside the house, wearing classic country attire – a box-quilt bodywarmer, green wellington boots and a blouse tucked into plain blue jeans. She was older than me. Probably in her thirties. Her arms were crossed.

‘Who’s that?’ I asked.

Michael’s arm was like an iron bar. ‘Wait here, okay? Don’t move, okay?’

‘What? Why—’

‘Just stay in the car, Lorna.’

Michael climbed out of the limo, closing the door quickly behind him. I watched him give the woman a long, swaying hug. She was short and skinny, like me, and fitted Michael’s body perfectly, her head leaning on his shoulder. After a few minutes, Michael came back to the car.

‘Lorna,’ he whispered. ‘Diane’s here. She’s taking our separation very hard. To tell you the truth, I think she’s losing her mind. You just wait here in the car until I sort everything out.’

Michael slammed the door before I could protest. The driver got out too and he, Michael and Diane went into the house.