‘Sweetheart. Hi. Did you get out OK?’

‘Yes, all good,’ I say. ‘I’m on the road.’

‘The press weren’t too aggressive?’

‘Er … no! They were fine.’

‘And you just got straight in the car and drove away?’

‘Pretty much.’ I clear my throat. ‘I mean, they might have got a few shots of me …’

‘I’m sure you did brilliantly, darling. It’s not easy, keeping your cool when you’re surrounded by cameras.’

‘How’s Sage?’

‘Manic,’ says Luke. ‘She’s had lots of offers already, and she wants to say yes to all of them.’

‘Offers of what?’

‘You name it. Interviews, film roles, nude magazine spreads, endorsement campaigns. All what you might call low-rent. Very much not what our strategy was all about. Not that she can see that.’

He sounds so exasperated, I want to giggle. I should imagine Sage Seymour is a bit of a change, after he’s been used to dealing with sensible businessmen in suits.

‘Well, good luck!’

‘You too. See you later.’

I ring off, and then dial Dad’s number.

‘Becky?’

‘Hi, Dad! Listen, I’m going to see your friend Brent. I’m in the car right now.’

‘Darling!’ Dad sounds surprised. ‘That was quick. I didn’t mean for you to drop everything.’

‘It’s no trouble,’ I say. ‘He’s based somewhere called the Shining Hill Home Estate, does that sound right?’

‘Sounds rather grand!’ says Dad. ‘That’ll be right. I’m sure he’s done very well for himself. He probably lives in a mansion.’

‘Really?’ I say, my interest piqued a little. ‘What does he do?’

‘I’m not sure. Back then, he was a postgraduate student.’

‘So how do you know he lives in a mansion?’ I object.

‘Oh, I’m certain he’s done all right for himself.’ Dad chuckles. ‘Let’s say, he was on the right path already— Oh, Becky!’ Dad interrupts himself. ‘Mum says, there’s a new picture of you on her phone on the internet! Standing outside your house. Is that you this morning, darling?’

‘Yes!’ I say in excitement. ‘Have they uploaded them already? What does it say?’

‘Witness Becky is pretty in pink,’ reads Dad carefully. ‘Brit set to testify in court. That’s on the National Enquirer website.’

National Enquirer! Pretty in pink! I feel a jolt of excitement. Although what’s this about testifying in court? I never said anything about that.

‘Do I look all right?’ I demand. That’s the main point.

‘You look wonderful! Ah now, Mum’s found another one: Becky steps out in YSL shoes.’

For God’s sake. I told them my shoes weren’t Yves Saint Laurent.

‘Darling, you’re quite the celebrity!’ says Dad. ‘Don’t forget us, will you?’

‘I won’t!’ I laugh, then jump as I see Luke flash up on the screen.

‘I’d better go, Dad. Talk to you later.’ I punch Answer. ‘Hi, Luke.’

‘Becky, my darling,’ he says, in that deadpan, patient tone he uses when he’s actually quite pissed off. ‘I thought you said you walked straight to the car and got in?’

‘Er … yes. Kind of.’