I sit impatiently through a zillion ads for pain relievers, and then watch as Sage appears on the screen, sitting on the sofa with a rapt Camberly. At first, it’s very boring, because she gets Sage to tell her exactly what happened at the awards ceremony, in every detail, and shows the video clip about ten times, and asks Sage over and over, ‘And how did that make you feel?’

Sage is acting devastated. She keeps using phrases like ‘I felt so betrayed’ and ‘I just don’t understand Lois’ and ‘Why me?’ in a broken voice. I think she’s overdoing it, myself.

Then it’s another ad break – and then it’s time for Lois’s appearance. And even though I know they’ve cooked all this up, my heart is beating faster at the thought of them together on the sofa. God knows what the American public is feeling. This really is a TV event.

Suddenly we’re back in the studio, and Lois walks on to the set, wearing skinny cigarette pants and a billowy white silk shirt and … holding the clutch bag! I can’t help gasping, and Jeff looks in the rear-view mirror.

‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Just watching the telly.’

Sage and Lois are staring at each other like two hostile cats, with a kind of crackling, unsmiling tension. The cameras keep switching from close-up to close-up. Camberly is watching silently, her hands to her mouth.

‘Have your clutch bag.’ Lois throws the bag down on the floor. Camberly jumps in shock and I make a squeak of protest. She’ll damage the diamanté!

‘You think I want it?’ says Sage. ‘You can keep it.’

Hang on. I’m a bit offended, here. That’s a really nice clutch bag. Which, by the way, no one has ever paid me for.

‘You two girls haven’t seen each other since the awards ceremony,’ says Camberly, leaning forward.

‘No,’ says Sage, not taking her eyes off Lois.

‘Why would I want to see her?’ chimes in Lois.

And suddenly I lose patience with the whole thing. It’s so unreal. They’re going to fight and be mean and then they’ll probably hug each other and cry at the end.

‘We’re here,’ says Jeff, pulling the car over. ‘You wanna keep watching?’

‘No thanks,’ I say, and switch off the TV. I look out of the window, trying to get my bearings. There are the galvanized gates. There are the rows of mobile homes. OK. Let’s hope I find some answers here.

‘This is really the address?’ says Jeff, who is peering out of the window dubiously. ‘You sure about that?’

‘Yes, this is it.’

‘Well, I think it’s advisable I come along with you,’ he says firmly, and gets out of the car.

‘Thanks, Jeff,’ I say, as he opens my car door.

I’m going to miss Jeff.

This time I walk straight to no. 431, without looking right or left. The eviction notice is still on the door, and the trailer opposite is shut up. I can see my card, still stuck in the window frame. Great. Clearly that woman didn’t pass it on.