‘Well, I’d talk to him when you have a chance.’

‘I will. I’m totally planning to. Is he here?’

Luke shakes his head. ‘I haven’t seen him. Or Tarkie. They must have gone out.’ He glances at his watch. ‘I must get some things ready. See you later.’ He kisses me briefly and heads out. I slump into a chair, feeling totally and utterly deflated.

So far, today has been pretty much the opposite of what I hoped. I thought I’d do an amazing TV interview. I thought I’d arrive back from the studios in clouds of glory. I thought Luke would be waiting, proud and beaming, maybe toasting me with champagne. My phone bleeps with a text and I reach for it despondently. It’s probably Luke saying, And by the way, your outfit looked crap, too.

But it’s not from Luke. It’s from Elinor.

I sit bolt upright, my heart suddenly beating fast. Elinor. I open the text and read the message:

Dear Rebecca, I have arrived in Los Angeles.

Oh my God. She’s here? Already?

A moment later, a whole load more text appears:

I look forward to my meeting with Luke and I trust you have prepared the ground with him. Perhaps you could contact me at your earliest convenience. I am staying at the Biltmore. Kind regards, Elinor Sherman.

That’s so Elinor. She writes texts as though she’s using a quill pen on parchment.

I read the message through a few more times, trying not to panic. It’s fine. It’s all fine. I can handle this. In fact, this is good timing. This could be the answer to everything. Luke and I need to clear the air; Luke and Elinor need to clear the air; everyone needs to clear the air. We need one big honest, cathartic session, and then everyone will be a lot happier.

Maybe this will even bring me and Luke together. He’ll realize that I do care about more than being on the red carpet. He’ll realize that, all this time, I’ve been thinking about his welfare and happiness. And then he’ll be sorry for calling me shallow. (OK, maybe he didn’t actually call me shallow. But he thought it, I know he did.)

I haven’t prepared any ground with Luke, but how can I? If I mention Elinor’s name he just shuts down. The best thing is just to get them in the same room and lock the door. That’s what you do with interventions: you take people by surprise.

What I have done is write a letter. Because that’s the other thing you do with interventions. You write down all the ways in which the individual is hurting you by their behaviour, and you read it out and they say, ‘My God, now I understand,’ and immediately give up alcohol/drugs/rifts with family members. (Well, that’s the idea.)

I’ll buy some candles and some calming room spray, and … what else? Maybe we should all chant first. I did a brilliant chanting class at Golden Peace, except I never quite learned what words we were supposed to be saying. So I usually just chanted ‘Pra-daaaaa …’ over and over. No one seemed to notice.