‘Hi there,’ says the assistant, a bright-eyed young woman with shiny red hair and perfectly contoured make-up. ‘Would you be interested in a Colour Match Makeover? We’re offering ten per cent off every session this week to celebrate the store launch.’

‘No thank you,’ I say, smiling politely as I head to the door. ‘I was just browsing.’

‘Oh, go on, Nessa,’ says Georgie, taking my arm and leading me back into the store. ‘It will do you good to have a little pamper.’

I look around me. The store is quiet and, to be honest, I would love to have a bit of a spruce. I’ve been feeling so grubby lately. So I relent and the assistant, who introduces herself as Verity, guides me to a tall stool upholstered in green velvet. While she gathers her products I sit there looking at myself in the spotlit mirror. What I see makes me inwardly gasp.

There are purple half-moons under my eyes, my skin is grey and dull, my hair lank. I seem to have aged ten years in the last few weeks.

But I try to relax, to put all negative thoughts out of my head as Verity sets to work cleansing my face with a Vitamin C-packed foam, applying micro fine moisturizer, then a matte primer. She gives me the name of each product, its ingredients and benefits. As someone who has spent the last five years working in the cosmetics industry this should feel like a bit of a busman’s holiday, but Verity is clearly passionate and informed about her products and I’m drawn in. ‘This foundation, Silk Sheen, is so light that it just looks like you’ve got great skin rather than wearing a mask of make-up,’ she says as she sponges a heavenly scented lotion on to my face. ‘And it blends so well, see?’

I lean forward towards the mirror and nod my head. She’s right. This is an excellent product. I must make a note of its ingredients to pass on to Anne. Then I remember I don’t work at Luna London any more.

Georgie was right, though. This has been just what I needed. The sound of Verity’s voice as she enthuses about the products, the smell of her perfume, the hum of the radio in the background, make me feel safe. No one can get to me here. I close my eyes as Verity applies a soft grey eyeshadow to my eyelids and I recall those nights when I would watch my mum get ready to go out. The smell of Penhaligon’s Violetta and M&S Magnolia talcum powder mingling in the air, the lotions and potions lined up on her dressing table, the way she opened her mouth into an ‘o’ shape as she applied mascara to her lashes.