‘Of course it is,’ she says, in a tone I can’t quite read.

‘Another time?’

‘Another time.’ She nods, and gets up from the table.

I’m left alone in the kitchen with Jeff, and I glance over at him. He’s sitting in silence, staring implacably ahead, but even so, I feel judged.

‘I do have to go shopping,’ I say defensively. ‘This is my big chance to be a Hollywood stylist.’

Jeff says nothing. But I know he’s judging me. They’re all judging me.

This is what it’s like to be a celebrity. Your family don’t understand. No one understands. No wonder they say it’s lonely at the top.

On the plus side, it turns out that shopping for a movie star is the perfect way to shop. I just wish I’d known a movie star before.

There’s the most fab vintage shop on Melrose Avenue, and the owner, Marnie, is absolutely on my wavelength. By mid-morning, I’ve been on the fastest, most efficient shopping spree of my life. I’ve bought three new clutch bags, two stoles and a vintage diamanté headdress. I’ve got three evening coats on hold, and five dresses, and this fantastic velvet cloak, which, if Sage doesn’t want, I am totally getting for myself.

I’ve also bought myself a couple of tiny things – just a sequined evening dress and a few pairs of shoes, because I’ll need them for my new lifestyle. I even used my notebook from Golden Peace, just to make sure I wasn’t shopping in an unhealthy way. In answer to the question, ‘Why am I shopping?’ I wrote, ‘Because I am a celebrity stylist now.’ I mean, you can’t argue with that.

When I head out of the shop, the blacked-out SUV is waiting by the kerb. Mitchell is standing to attention, his shades glinting in the sun, and Jeff escorts me to the SUV door. I can see some shoppers looking at me curiously, and I put my hand up to shield my face, just like a proper A-lister.

As I get into the SUV, surrounded by bags, I feel elated. I’m totally on track with my new career! The only slight worry I have is that my Breakfast Show USA segment is tomorrow, and I still haven’t heard from them what sort of styling they want. How can I prepare a fashion piece if I don’t have a brief? I’ve left a zillion messages for Aran about this already, but I decide to try him again anyway, and this time he picks up.

‘Oh hi, Aran,’ I say. ‘Listen, did you ever hear back from Breakfast Show USA about what sort of clothes I should prepare? Because it’s tomorrow! I need to get some pieces together!’

‘Oh!’ Aran laughs. ‘My bad. Yes, I meant to tell you. They say don’t worry about the clothes. They’ll take care of all that. Your job is just to go on the show and talk.’

Don’t worry about the clothes? I stare blankly at the phone. How can I not worry about the clothes when I’m the stylist?