‘Suze, do that bendy-back pose where you look over your shoulder,’ I say, and then hurry over to a photographer with dark hair and a denim jacket who’s leaning on the barrier, yawning. Yawning!

‘Hey, take her photo,’ I say, pointing at Suze. ‘She looks gorgeous!’

‘Who is she?’ he retorts.

‘Don’t you recognize her?’ I try to sound incredulous. ‘You’re going to lose your job! She’s the latest thing.’

‘The photographer seems unimpressed. ‘Who is she?’ he repeats.

‘Suze Cleath-Stuart. She’s British. Really, really hot.’

‘Who?’ He leafs through a printed crib sheet, with faces and names of celebrities. ‘Nope. Don’t think so.’ He puts the crib sheet away, then takes out his phone and starts sending a text.

‘Oh, take her photo,’ I beg, all pretence gone. ‘Go on! Just for fun.’

The photographer looks at me as though for the first time. ‘How did you get on the red carpet?’

‘We sneaked on,’ I admit. ‘We’re visitors to LA. And if I was a Hollywood photographer, I’d take pictures of normal people as well as celebrities.’

A tiny, reluctant smile tweaks at the photographer’s mouth.

‘Oh, you would?’

‘Yes!’

He sighs and rolls his eyes. ‘Go on then.’ He lifts his camera and focuses it on Suze. Yessss!

‘Me too!’ I squeak, and skitter over the red carpet to join her. OK, quick. Elbow out. Legs crossed. It’s actually happening! We’re actually having our photo taken, in Hollywood, on the red carpet! I smile at the lens, trying to look natural, waiting for the flash …

‘Meryl! Meryl! MERYL!’

In a blink, the lens vanishes from sight. Like stampeding wildebeest, every single photographer, including our guy in the denim jacket, has charged to the far side of the red carpet. I don’t think he took a single shot of us, and now he’s in the thick of the paparazzi, yelling and screaming.

‘OVER HERE, MERYL! MERYL! HERE!’

The flashes are like strobe lighting. The clamour is extraordinary. And all because Meryl Streep has arrived.

Well, OK. Fair enough. No one can compete with Meryl Streep.

We both watch in awe and fascination as she makes her way graciously along the red carpet, surrounded by several flunkeys.

‘Meryl!’ calls Suze boldly as she comes near. ‘Love your work!’

‘Me too!’ I chime in.

Meryl Streep turns her head and gives us a slightly bewildered smile.

Yes! We networked with Meryl Streep on the red carpet! Wait till I tell Mum.

As we enter the ballroom where the benefit is happening, I’m still on a high. Never mind if no one took our picture, this is exactly what I imagined Hollywood would be like. Lots of people in amazing dresses, and Meryl Streep, and a band playing smooth jazz, and delicious citrussy cocktails.

The whole place is decorated in pale grey and pink, and there’s a stage on which some dancers are already performing, and a dance floor and loads of circular tables. And I can already see a goodie bag on each chair! My head is swivelling around as I try to catch sight of all the celebs, and Suze is doing the same.