Suze is now wearing the brocade coat, a beret and a pair of sunglasses and posing in front of the mirror.

‘You look fab,’ I say. ‘Tomorrow I’ll do your hair and makeup and we’ll have a proper shoot.’

Suze comes back to the bed and starts rifling through a bag of skirts. ‘These are nice, too.’ She holds one up against herself and looks at the label. ‘Oh, they’re by Danny.’

‘I phoned his office and they sent a whole bunch over,’ I explain. ‘They’re from the new collection. You know, Sarah Jessica Parker’s assistant asked especially to see a sneak preview?’ I add. ‘Danny told me himself.’

‘Ooh, SJP!’ Suze’s head pops up. ‘Is she in LA? Have you met her?’

‘No,’ I say, and Suze sighs.

‘Haven’t you met anyone famous?’

This is what everyone has been asking me since I got back. Mum, Dad, our neighbours Janice and Martin, everyone. I’m tired of saying, ‘No, I haven’t met anyone famous.’ And the truth is, I did meet someone famous, didn’t I? I mean, I know I promised to keep it a secret. But Suze is my best friend. Telling a best friend doesn’t count.

‘Suze,’ I say, lowering my voice. ‘If I tell you something, you can’t tell a soul. Not Tarkie, not anyone. I’m serious.’

‘I promise,’ she says, her eyes wide. ‘What is it?’

‘I met Lois Kellerton.’

‘Lois Kellerton?’ She sits straight up. ‘Oh my God! You never told me that!’

‘I’m telling you now! But I didn’t just meet her …’

Suze is the best person to share stuff with. As I tell her about seeing Lois Kellerton shoplifting, and about chasing her down the street, she gasps and puts her hand to her mouth and says ‘No way’ several times.

‘… and I promised not to tell anyone,’ I conclude.

‘Well, I won’t blab,’ says Suze at once. ‘Anyway, who would I tell? The children? The sheep? Tarkie?’

We both start giggling. Tarkie probably has no idea who Lois Kellerton is, even.

‘But it’s so weird,’ Suze adds, her brow creased in thought. ‘I can’t believe it. Why would a big movie star like that steal socks?’

‘I haven’t told you everything yet,’ I say, and reach in my pocket. ‘Look what arrived at the hotel.’

I still can’t believe this happened. It was on the last day of our trip, when I was having a small private word with the front desk about the minibar bill. (I didn’t necessarily want Luke seeing how many Toblerones I’d eaten.) The concierge caught sight of me and said, ‘Ah, Mrs Brandon, this has just arrived for you.’

It was a smart white package, and inside was a small silver box engraved with three words: Thank you Becky. There was no note. But I instantly knew who it was from. She must have tracked me down. Or I guess her people did.

Now I hand it over to Suze, who turns it over in her fingers wonderingly.