‘Right, well.’ He sighs. ‘Can’t be helped. Now, I’ve drafted a statement which I think we should release in an hour or two. I’ll send it over to Aran’s legal team, check for any holes. If you don’t want to watch a movie why don’t you go and have a nice bath?’ he adds. ‘Take your mind off things.’

‘Actually, I have to go out,’ I say, trying to sound casual.

‘Out?’ Luke stares at me as though I’m insane. ‘What do you mean, out?’

‘I have to do something for my father. I have to look up his old friend Brent Lewis. Remember, he asked me to?’

‘Well, yes, I do, but … now?’

‘Why not now?’ I say, a little defiantly.

‘Because, look at that rabble!’ expostulates Luke, gesturing at the window. ‘If you set foot outside the gates, they’ll descend on you!’

‘Well, maybe I don’t care! Maybe it’s more important to me to do this favour for my father. Why should the press stop me leading my normal life?’ I’m getting quite stirred up here. ‘Why should I be trapped in my own home? What am I, a prisoner?’

‘Hardly a prisoner,’ says Luke impatiently. ‘I simply think that, just for today—’

‘I made my father a promise, Luke!’ I say, in an impassioned voice. ‘I’m going to see that promise through, whatever it takes. And no one’s going to stop me, not the press, not you, not no one!’

‘Fine,’ says Luke at last. ‘Whatever. If you really insist on doing this, then just get straight in the car and drive out. Don’t talk to the press.’

‘I won’t,’ I say.

‘Even if they try to get a rise out of you, ignore them.’ He shakes his head. ‘Becky, I still think you should stay inside.’

‘Luke,’ I say, my voice quivering a little. ‘You don’t understand. I have to do this. For my father. For myself. And for all of us.’

Before he can ask what I mean by that (I have no idea), I head up the stairs, feeling all noble, like a prince about to go into battle. Which, actually, this kind of is. And the point is: I have to win. This is my chance. My big, Hollywood, one-in-a-million, photo-opportunity chance.

Oh my God. What am I going to wear?

OK. It took me an hour and three mirrors and about two hundred pictures on my phone, but I’ve finally worked out the perfect, casual-but-cool outfit for facing the press. My most flattering white Stella McCartney cropped trousers with the little zips. Killer heels by D&G, and a bright-pink shell top from J Crew which will really stand out. And the pièce de résistance: these stunning oversized sunglasses which I found in the same shop I bought the diamanté clutch bag. They’re vintage Missoni and the frames are pink and green swirls. You can’t miss them. They’ll definitely be a talking point.

What I must do is make sure I stand in a flattering way as I’m opening the car door. Yes. And say things like, ‘Please leave me alone, no press, please, I’m just going about my day.’