‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I know that one. I have a little sister. Well, stepsister. Darcy. She has autism. So life sort of revolves around her. It has to. Darcy gets really upset if we don’t stick to a routine or do things a certain way. I can’t even wear hats because it freaks her out. But it’s fine. Because I love her and I know it’s what she needs. Love makes it okay. You know, putting up with the bad parts.’

‘What a beautiful thing to say.’ Diane smiles. ‘You’re a special girl, Liberty. Lorna did something right. Raising someone like you.’

On stage, the music fizzles out and I see Michael slapping the backs of the musicians.

‘I’m not all that special,’ I say, watching as Michael hops down from the stage and weaves through the crowd, shaking hands and patting shoulders. ‘Plenty of people make themselves second best because they love someone.’

Diane nods and nods. ‘Yes. Yes, they do. And it’s okay, isn’t it? Like you say, we accept it.’

Michael comes bounding up to us. ‘Everything okay with my girls? I could see you from the stage, the pair of you looking ever so serious. What’s going on here then? Nothing bad, I hope?’

‘We were just having a nice girls’ chat,’ says Diane, squeezing my hand. ‘And this girl is getting desperate to talk to you, Michael Reyji Ray. So I’m going to leave the pair of you to it.’ She winks at me. ‘I’ll go mingle. Back in a sec.’

‘How are you liking the party so far?’ Michael asks.

‘I’m having a great time,’ I say. ‘It’s awesome. Like being inside the pages of NME.’

‘Yeah, I’ve collected some good people around me over the years,’ says Michael. ‘And let me tell you something, young Liberty. You are nothing without other people. Absolutely nothing. You can have all the talent in the world, but if no one wants to help you or work with you, you’re finished.’

‘It’s an amazing party,’ I say, looking at the crowd. The air is buzzing, even without the music, and the collective feeling here is one big good mood. Rainbow flags fly from the branches, musicians arrange themselves on stage and food sizzles on grills at the edge of the clearing.

All around us are eager faces, many clearly desperate to speak with the great man.

‘But you want to talk,’ says Michael. ‘Right? As in talk talk. I can see it in your face. Why don’t we find a little quiet spot, the two of us? Come on. We’ll get away from this noise.’ Michael points to three tree stumps arranged like a table and chairs in a small clearing. ‘Let’s have a father-daughter catch-up. Step into my office. Do you play chess at all?’

He pats a shaded chess grid carved on the largest tree stump.