‘Are you ready?’ Wardrobe Lady called out.

I grimaced and drew back my shoulders. I wasn’t going to let her break me. I’d flaunt this ridiculous garb to the very best of my ability. With my head held high, I strutted out.

Even Barry appeared shocked. He didn’t know where to look: his eyes drifted from my face to my chest and back again. He eventually fixed his gaze on a midpoint around my collarbone. ‘That’s, uh, that’s pretty.’

Wardrobe Lady tapped her mouth. ‘Something’s missing.’

Several yards of fabric?

She squinted and then her expression cleared. ‘I know!’ She bent down, reached into a chest and drew out a pair of knee-high boots. With stiletto heels.

‘No.’ I folded my arms across my chest. Even I had limits. I wouldn’t be able to walk three feet in those things without toppling over.

Wardrobe Lady smiled. ‘Yes. I’m in charge here, darling.’

I shook my head. ‘This show needs me more than I need it. No heels. If you’re that desperate to get your revenge on me by making me wear this, fine. I’ll let you have your moment. But I won’t put on those shoes.’

Her mouth tightened fractionally. Whether it was because I’d called her out on her petty plan or because I was refusing to tramp around muddy Scottish moors in those boots, I wasn’t sure. She’d be sorry if she ended up getting her face eaten off because I couldn’t get to her in my heels in time for a rescue.

Seeming to realise that she’d gone too far, she relented. ‘Fine,’ she snapped. She reached into the chest again and took out some ballet pumps. ‘Will these do her highness?’

Nah. Too flimsy. I glanced over her shoulder and spotted a heavy, scuffed pair of Doc Martens. ‘I’ll take those.’

Wardrobe Lady opened her mouth to refuse so I forestalled her. ‘You’ve seen a tiny amount of what I’m capable of,’ I said softly. ‘But changing a few seams isn’t what I’m really good at. My magic skills are far beyond anything you can imagine. You might think you know magic from working on Enchantment. The truth is that you don’t have a clue.’ To emphasise my point and make sure she didn’t mistake my meaning, I added a close-mouthed smile. It didn’t reach my eyes.

Wardrobe Lady swallowed. ‘I think those will look good,’ she said eventually.

I clapped her on the shoulder. ‘Great minds think alike!’ I bent down and put them on. A perfect fit.

Gazing in the mirror I decided that, despite her best efforts, I looked rather cool. The Doc Martens made me seem more like a grunge princess than a showy hooker. At least that’s what I was going to tell myself.

When I finally left the trailer, with Barry still firmly by my side, a gust of cold air immediately gave me a serious bout of goose pimples. And it was clear from my producer’s embarrassed cough that the flimsy material was doing little to hide my reaction to the cold in other areas as well.