Victoria’s eyes were wide, the pupils dilated.

‘Are you sure you understand?’

She understood – too well. The truth was thundering along a road in her mind, headlights blazing, horn blaring, ready to crush her with the full force of realisation. It was coming. It was coming. She gestured frantically with her hands, and the nurse just managed to slip a papier-mâché bowl under her chin as she started vomiting.

‘Damn it, Isabelle, you didn’t even tell me you were coming to London and now that you’re here, you’re won’t even return my calls. Am I really such a monster?’

‘I’m sorry, Mum, it’s not that. I’ve just got a lot of business stuff to take care of an then I’m flying back to America.’

‘But I have to see you.’

Why? Something you have to tell me? Something about Dad? I already know . . .

‘I’m sorry. I’ll be back soon enough. After the Oscars. That’s really all I can think about at the moment.’

‘I’m worried, darling. There’s something I have to discuss with you.’

‘Fire away.’

‘In person.’

‘Look, I have to go. But for what it’s worth no, I’m not on drugs, I haven’t touched the stuff in months and I don’t intend to ever again. Yes, I’m eating properly. Yes, I’m very happy, I’m going out with a man called Mike, he’s in a band that you won’t have heard of.’

‘Isabelle, I really need to . . .’

‘Yes, we’re having sexual relations, and yes, I’m being very careful, I’m on the pill and he uses condoms, we know what we’re doing, so I’m not going to get pregnant or catch AIDS or doing anything else to disgrace you.’

It sounded as if Christine was crying. ‘Oh, Isabelle . . .’

‘Gotta go, Mum.’ She’d gone too far, but it was her mother’s fault. ‘I’ll see you soon, I promise. Wish me luck.’

She put the phone down before Christine could say another word.

‘Look, Joel, don’t wait up for me. I’m going to be very very late. I’ve got to go to a gig and then to the after-party. I’m really sorry.’

‘Ah, don’t worry, mate. I could do with a night off, to be honest. I’ll tidy the place up a bit, get an early night. Who are you going to see?’

‘Mercy Williams.’

‘Wow. Lucky you. Where is she playing?’

‘The O2. Sorry I can’t take you, Joel, but it’s one of these work things – you know, they only give you one ticket.’

Joel frowned. ‘I really ought to come with you.’

‘Come on. You don’t like this sort of thing, you’ve told me so a thousand times. Too gay for you.’

‘Where are you sitting?’

‘What? I don’t know. I’m a guest.’

‘Who’s guest?’