Rivelli did not speak. His face was dark, his eyes glowing with fury. Victoria bent over the sink, lifted her skirt and braced herself against the wall, one hand on either side of the mirror. She could see Rivelli’s reflection as he unzipped, brought himself to full erection with a few brisk tugs and slaps, spat into his hand and then, kicking her feet a yard apart, entered her from behind.

Isabelle escaped from the celebrity scrum and went in search of her parents who, by that time, were poring over the menu in a restaurant in Charlotte Street. She couldn’t find them, she couldn’t find Ben, and she couldn’t find Will. The next show was about to start, and people were taking their seats.

She ran into Dan Parker coming out of the gents as she was about to go into the ladies.

‘Congratulations,’ he said, looking rather morose. ‘Great show.’

‘Thanks.’ She felt tongue-tied.

‘All those celebs,’ he said, waving towards the VIP area. ‘Good for business.’

‘Yes . . .’ She wanted to say that she felt awkward with them, at a loss for conversation, that she would much rather go for pizza with him than . . .

‘Well, it’s good to see you,’ he said, moving away.

‘Are you . . .’ She was going to say ‘with anyone?’, but instead she said ‘staying for the next show?’

‘I suppose I should. It’s kind of expected.’

‘Oh.’ Perhaps he was shy, she thought, and expects me to make the first move. ‘Well, we could go for a . . .’

‘Isabelle!’ Will, at last, shoving his way through the crowd. ‘Fucking hell! You’re not going to believe this when I tell you!’

Dan backed away, and was lost in the crowd.

‘Is it Givenchy?’

‘Oh, that. No. I was going to save that for tomorrow. Good, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose so . . .’

‘That’s one of Dan Parker’s little deals. Clever lad, that Dan.’

‘He was just here . . .’

‘No, this isn’t about that. It’s about Rivelli. Guess what?’

Isabelle followed a blond head through the crowd; it might be him, it might not. The superstar DJ cranked the volume up, the lights went down, and she lost him.

‘Go on,’ shouted Will, ‘guess!’

‘Huh?’

‘It was Rivelli who stole the collection.’

But she did not seem to have heard him.

Victoria had to think on her feet. She’d seduced Ben with one thought in mind – to hurt Christine, lashing out blindly because she saw the means to do so. It would be no great hardship to have him in her bed, randy, uncomplicated in comparison to Joel, a welcome return to men after her lesbian interlude with Leanne. She hadn’t thought much beyond that – walking out with Ben on her arm, under Christine’s nose, flaunting it, making a scene, making them talk. That would have been a good night’s work.