Moonbeam wasn’t interested. His attention was wholly on Winter. ‘You know I have friends in the Order? They’re very highly placed.’

I could tell from Winter’s expression that he was about to snap. It might have been because of Moonbeam’s overly earnest nature or the fact that he’d interrupted us. Either way, it seemed appropriate to get Moonbeam to a safe distance. The last thing any of us needed was the Order making an enemy of Belinda Battenapple’s son.

‘Time to go!’ I chirped. ‘Come on, Moonbeam! I need your help.’

He dragged his eyes away from Winter. ‘What with?’

‘Tactics,’ I said, trying to think of something that would entice the poor boy away. ‘I want to talk strategy with someone who has your intellect and capacity for dissembling.’

Moonbeam looked pleased. Thank goodness. ‘Is that Barry?’

I nodded.

‘First of all, you don’t want him as your producer,’ he said, as I linked arms with him and drew him away from a still-glowering Winter. ‘You need someone with some real bite if you want to go far.’

Again with the damned eating analogies. The only difference this time was that I couldn’t tell Moonbeam off. Winter obviously didn’t want word of last night’s zombie getting out. And it definitely had been a bloody zombie, regardless of how much he protested. ‘Tell me more,’ I murmured.

Unfortunately, Moonbeam was only too happy to oblige.

***

With his diabolical plan to usurp one of the contestants almost certainly sunk, Moonbeam seemed to have moved on to trying to take Barry’s place. Every time the producer opened his mouth, Moonbeam jumped in. He stuck to our sides like a limpet. I’d have done something to get rid of him but he actually had some useful information to impart. Besides, I was curious to know if he was aware of what his mother had hanging around her neck.

‘See,’ he said, clutching at my arm in order to emphasise his point, ‘you need to ensure you have as much camera time as possible. That means you need to be out there. Do you get me, Ivy?’

‘I have to be out there,’ I repeated. Whatever that meant.

‘Exactly. So if someone starts an argument, you step in and smooth it over.’

‘Should I start arguments?’ I enquired.

He was horrified. ‘Definitely not. That’s a sure-fire way to be voted out. You want people on your side. Both the contestants and the viewing public. It’s the only way.’

I pursed my lips. ‘What about my outfit? I think it’s a bit risqué.’

Moonbeam cast a critical eye at the dress. ‘It does show rather too much flesh,’ he agreed. ‘I wouldn’t have thought you’d be the one to be set up as the seductive honey pot but,’ he shrugged, ‘I guess it takes all sorts.’

Plonker. I wasn’t going to rise to his backhanded criticism, though, not when I’d finally managed to find a way to ask him about his mother. I touched my neck and assumed a wistful air. ‘I just wish they’d let me keep my necklace on. I miss its weight against my skin.’