It was tempting to think it had – because Isabelle, for all her glowing press cuttings, her Fashion Award, her celebrity endorsement and rock star boyfriend, was getting nowhere fast with Tilly Ostergard and Mercy Williams. Their people didn’t get back to her; Christ, even her people’s people were beyond her reach. LA, for whatever reason, had a downer on London. Edgy was out, classic was in, Cissé was nowhere. Back to London, and lower your sights. There’s always the Baftas, she thought, with a sinking feeling.

‘Surprised to see me?’

Surprised? Fucking furious, more like.

‘Leanne! How on earth did you find me?’

‘It wasn’t difficult, Victoria. You’re not as careful as you think you are. Besides, where else would you go?’

‘You’d better come in,’ said Victoria, but Leanne already had, dumping a hold-all in the hall. At least she hadn’t packed for a long stay.

‘Nice.’ Leanne whistled. ‘Very nice. I can see the attraction. So – when were you planning on telling me?’

‘Telling you what?’

She can’t know – can she?

‘About your little disappearing act. What was I, Victoria? A handy place to stay? A bit of sexual tourism? A meal ticket?’

They sat down in the reception room, on sofas that faced each other across the wide, quarry-tiled floor. Victoria buried her toes in the fur rug. She felt cold.

‘I’m sorry. I feel awful. I was so . . . confused.’

‘Oh, tell that to the marines, sweetheart. You’re the least confused woman I ever met. Don’t try all that Baby Doll crap with me. You knew exactly what you were doing.’

‘Okay. I thought you were bored of me. I wanted to leave before you threw me out. I couldn’t face that again.’

Why has she come?

‘I wasn’t going to throw you out.’

‘You would have done. Sooner or later.’

‘I was actually hoping that you would stay.’

Oh shit.

‘In fact, Victoria . . .’ Leanne crossed the room and sat next to her on the sofa, ‘there something I’ve been meaning to tell you.’

Victoria got up, without really meaning to.

‘Before you go any further, there’s something I need to tell you.’

‘What? You’re back with Rivelli? I’d sort of figured that out for myself, thanks.’

‘No.’ Victoria looked out over the terrace towards the glint of the pool. ‘I’m pregnant.’

Silence fell.

‘Say something.’

‘Is it his?’

‘Of course it’s his.’

‘I don’t see any “of course” about it.’ Leanne was frowning.

‘You’re angry, I know. That’s why I had to leave. I couldn’t face you. It was such a shock, finding out . . . and I panicked. I just ran. I didn’t know where else to come.’

‘And he took you in with open arms, is that it?’

‘What else was I supposed to do?’