I had no option but to make the best of the messy situation I had found myself in. It was a job after all. If I was able to stick it out for even a few months, perhaps something else at another magazine or newspaper might come up?

Good grief! I had landed myself in it this time.

Snapshots of Miles’s smug face drifted in front of my eyes and I blinked them away.

I showed the invitation and then my magazine ID card to a dour-faced security guard. He directed me up to the fourth floor.

I caught the lift with a gaggle of other female journalists who were speculating on whether Tilly’s latest boyfriend, the actor Dylan McKnight, might be there.

Once we exited the lift, we were greeted by another security guard who welcomed us into a huge suite decked out in purple satin. Enormous Roman urns of purple and white flowers were stationed at the entrance, as well as in each corner of the room.

Images were being played out on a large rectangular screen at the far end, showing a lovely young woman drifting around in a castle, sporting the most glorious transparent skin I had ever seen in my life.

I caught sight of my own preoccupied face in one of the mirrored columns and reached for a glass of water from one of the passing waiters. I could do with some hydration myself.

Just a matter of weeks ago, I was reporting on missing wheelie bins, gulls pinching tourists’ chips, and the possible closure of the local library.

There was a sudden burst of enthusiastic applause that made me almost drop my glass of water. When I turned with the assembled throng, I realised that Tilly Crabtree had emerged from behind the purple curtains and was holding court.

She kept tossing back her cloud of dark hair and baring her teeth like she wanted to bite somebody.

She threw her hands wide, like she was about to deliver everyone from salvation. “Welcome to the launch of Glorious!”

Once the excited applause had died down, Tilly reeled off a spiel about what it meant to her to bring such a wonderful product to the masses.

I was more fascinated by how her forehead didn’t move, even though her eyebrows did.

“Glorious is the new make-up revolution,” she breathed, prowling up and down the glittery stage. “No matter how old you are, how young you are, this foundation will bring you joy.”

Not as much as a night with Henry Cavill would, I thought to myself.

A waiter meandered past with a tray of champagne flutes and I decided I needed something like that to keep me going. I had the feeling I would be here for a while yet.

“Here, madam, have a complimentary gift, courtesy of Ms Crabtree,” grinned a woman with a swinging ponytail, handing it to me.

“Thank you.”