‘Have you heard any rumours about who might be performing?’ he asked. ‘I asked Carden, but he wouldn’t spill.’

‘No idea. I’ve heard everyone from Madonna to me,’ Genevieve said, gesturing for us all to lean in and share a secret, even though she didn’t bother to lower her extremely loud voice. ‘But you know Juliette is no longer on the bill.’

‘Oh really?’ I asked with what I hoped was an appropriate amount of surprise. ‘Do you know why?’

‘Apparently, she walked in, told them she wanted a million dollars to play, and when they refused, she walked right back out,’ she replied, eyes as wide as saucers.

‘Not what I heard,’ Andrew said. ‘My source told me she’s in rehab. They were hoping to keep the whole thing quiet, but she relapsed last week and the facility won’t let her out.’

‘Oh, that’s terrible.’ The older woman arched her eyebrow. ‘But I can’t say I’m exactly surprised.’

He nodded, spurred on by the colour in Genevieve’s cheeks. ‘She checked herself in at a clinic in Arizona thinking it would be a jolly, but by all accounts, the doctors think she’s completely mad and won’t let her leave.’

‘I don’t think that’s true,’ I said, suddenly feeling even grubbier than I had when I arrived at the hotel. Juliette wasn’t exactly top of my Christmas card list, but I couldn’t just stand there and listen while complete strangers spread lies about her.

‘My source is very close to Juliette’s camp,’ Andrew replied, disinterested. He took a swig from his glass and looked away. ‘I have it on very good authority.’

‘Regardless of the excuse, I think it’s for the best. I’ve heard she’s terrible,’ Genevieve said, clearly very keen to slag off Juliette. ‘Rude, unreliable, and you know she can’t sing live any more. Completely destroyed her voice with drugs. Has to mime all the time, can barely speak.’

Andrew nodded and raised his glass to hers. ‘That’s meth for you. I heard she’s bald. Always wears a wig, never seen in public without one.’

I coughed, champagne spluttering up into my nose and burning my eyes.

‘Simply put, she’s a terror,’ he concluded. ‘And my cousin told me she only got her first record deal because she was very comfortable on her knees, if you know what I mean.’

That was it, I’d heard enough. I had as much right as anyone else in the room to be angry at Juliette but that was the final straw.

‘And how exactly would your cousin know?’ I interrupted. ‘Does he own the record label?’

‘No,’ he replied coolly. ‘But his cousin’s husband works in the label’s legal department and—’