‘Yes, my brother and sister named me,’ Risky says. ‘I think my mum regrets not saving that idea for our new dog.’ Everyone laughs, she is very good. I feel a bit proud of my assistant, especially for acknowledging her name makes her sound like a Cocker Spaniel.

Jenny isn’t comfortable with this casual conversation and suggests we get on with it. I try to get the visual of Gavin doing Risky up the bum out of my head. I’m not sure where that came from.

Risky looks at me for approval to pose with Gavin. There is a bold line in her contract that says she isn’t allowed to hassle famous clients for photos, but I say it’s OK. Everyone seems happy. I let it pass.

‘Hey Marion, I’m here with Risky and just wanted to say …’ Gavin pauses, and looks into the lens, his arm around Risky. ‘I’m out!’

Risky almost collapses when he performs the show’s catch-phrase. ‘Mum’s going to die when she sees that.’

Gavin, Lauren and Risky all watch the video back together and give it their mutual approval. ‘It would look great with the Aden filter if you post it. Make sure you tag me,’ Lauren says, suddenly in her element. Risky promises she will. It’s like they are talking in code.

‘Right, shall we kick this off then?’ I say, realising we could be here all day doing social media posts. ‘OK, who’s going first, shall I? My name is Beth and I’m addicted to weddings,’ I say, regretting it immediately. Risky bursts out laughing, as if her contract says she must support my comedy.

Despite just agreeing to start the meeting, Lauren picks up her phone and checks it quickly. She leans over to Jenny and whispers, ‘That post about the wedding shoes got 156k likes.’

Jenny looks thrilled. ‘You tagged Jimmy Choo, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah, I’d never not do that again, not after last time.’

They both make a face that suggests Jimmy Choo himself was quite upset, and we finally crack on with the meeting.

‘OK, so we have lots to go through,’ I say, pulling a bunch of papers out of a plastic folder and resting them on my lap. ‘Shall we start with the order of the day?’

‘Yes, or maybe the music?’ Lauren suggests, in her gentle voice. She’s very pretty but nothing mind-blowing in real life. She has a sweet face, and a friendly smile. She looks as natural as a twenty-eight-year-old with bleached hair and a fake tan can look. I’ve noticed she often looks to someone else for confirmation after she has said something, as if her decisions always need to be backed up to make them valid. This time she looks to Gavin, who puts his hand on her thigh and says, ‘Whatever baby.’