I shall think, she decided.

I shall mull over my options.

I shall consider those less fortunate than myself.

It occurred to her that one of the advantages of travelling to an obscure Indonesian island to work with lepers was how amazing it would be for her brand. She had almost four thousand followers on Instagram, and if she could multiply that by, say, thirty, then she’d definitely be able to call herself an influencer. Most of her followers had initially clicked on her account because of their interest in her father’s television show or her mother’s novels, but their motivations didn’t matter to her. After all, Kim Kardashian had built an empire by releasing a sex tape and her entire family had become billionaires afterwards. Not that she was willing to go down that path again. She’d tried, once, with a former boyfriend, Tuscany Fields, but it had failed to cause the scandal she’d longed for and she still found the entire incident excruciating to recall.

She and Tuscany had only been dating for a few months when she came up with the idea of them making a sex tape of their own, releasing it online and then complaining about the invasion of their privacy. She’d met him one Saturday night when she was backstage at a recording of Cleverley. He’d been interning, tasked with keeping the production crew away from Scarlett Johansson, and she’d immediately been drawn to him. It turned out that he’d been brought up in a commune in Italy – hence the name – but had recently decided that he’d prefer not to spend his life eating lentils and saluting the sun. Instead, he wanted a Bose sound system, a seventy-eight-inch Sony television and a BMW. So, he came to London.

Once they started dating, Elizabeth made a point of taking him only to restaurants where there were sure to be paparazzi waiting outside and, although she did her best to cover her face and appear furious at the press intrusion whenever they walked in or out, the photographers had no idea who she was so didn’t bother to take any pictures. Over time, she made her outfits more risqué, hoping this might encourage them to let off a few flashes in her direction, but still no luck.

In the meantime, her followers had plateaued and her social media creativity director, Trevé, had suggested that she do something dramatic if she wanted to increase her profile. No one knew who she was, Trevé pointed out, and no one cared. But everyone knew who her parents were. Embarrass them, and the country would follow her anywhere. Which was when she came up with the idea.

At first, Tuscany was wary about the camera she set up in her bedroom, wondering why they would want to watch themselves having sex after the event. It was like those people who went to concerts, he said, who paid no attention to the show but kept their arms extended, filming the whole thing on their phones. What are they going to do, he asked, go home and watch it again later and wish that they’d been there to enjoy it live?