‘Thank you,’ she whispers. ‘Thank you. What’s your name?’

‘Becky,’ I reply eagerly. ‘Becky Bloomwood. I mean, Brandon. I was Bloomwood but I got married, so my name changed …’ Argh, stop gabbling. ‘Um, Becky,’ I finish lamely. ‘My name is Becky.’

‘Thank you, Becky.’

And before I can say anything, she’s turned and gone.

THREE

Next morning, my head is still sparking in disbelief. Did that actually happen? Did I actually meet Lois Kellerton?

When I returned to Pump!, clutching the socks, it turned out they hadn’t even noticed that the socks had gone. For an awful moment I thought they were going to accuse me of stealing them. But thankfully a sales assistant took over the incident, and called up the CCTV footage and we all watched as a thin girl in a grey hoody put the socks in her bag and slipped out. I was tingling all over as I watched. A tiny part of me wanted to yell, ‘Don’t you see who it is? Don’t you see?’

But of course I didn’t. I’d made a promise. Besides which, they’d never believe me. On the video you can’t see her face at all.

Then we watched the footage as I chased her out of the shop. All I can say is, I am never buying an ‘Athletic Shaping All-in-One’ again. I wanted to die when I saw my bottom bulging through the shiny fabric.

Anyway. On the plus side, everyone was really impressed by what I did, even if they were more interested in arguing about whether the socks should have been fitted with security tags. My story was that the ‘mystery girl’ dropped the socks as I chased her down the street, and that I couldn’t catch up with her. I didn’t know what to do about the fifty-dollar note, so in the end I pretended that I’d found it on the floor and handed it over. I left my name in case the police needed a statement, then hurried back to our hotel, where I finally cut that awful all-in-one off myself. (I bought a pair of shorts and a vest from Gap instead.)

Lois Kellerton. I mean, Lois Kellerton. People would die if they knew! (Well, Suze would.) But I haven’t told anybody. When Luke and I finally met up for supper last night, he wanted to hear all about the rental houses I’d looked at, and I didn’t want to admit I’d spent quite so much time on Rodeo Drive … and besides which, I made a promise. I said I’d keep it a secret and I have. Today it feels as though the whole event was a weird little dream.

I blink and shake my head to dislodge it. I have other things to think about this morning. I’m standing outside Dalawear, which is on Beverly Boulevard and has a window display of mannequins in ‘easy-wear’ dresses and pantsuits, taking tea on a fake lawn.

I’m not meeting Danny for another twenty minutes, but I wanted to get here early and remind myself of the store and its layout. As I wander in, there’s a lovely smell of roses in the air, and Frank Sinatra is playing over the sound system. It’s a very pleasant store, Dalawear, even if all the jackets seem to be one style, just with different buttons.