‘Yes, Dad.’ Bella’s teeth were gritted as the opening credits scrolled up, revealing Poppy’s beautiful, smiling face framed against the New York skyline.

‘Wow,’ was her opening comment. Not particularly clever, or eloquent, but as she spread her arms wide to indicate the roof terrace on which she was being filmed, she also exposed her lovely, slender body in its Missoni string bikini, which more than compensated.

‘Wow, indeed.’ Mark whistled.

For fuck’s sake! thought Bella. They’ll be rubbing their crotches and panting next.

‘I have to say that I have the best job in the world,’ Poppy confided to the camera. ‘As an English girl from the sticks …’

‘Puh-lease …’ groaned Bella, until she realized that everybody was looking at her weirdly. She shifted uncomfortably on the floor and leant back against the sofa. Andy kissed the top of her head as he sat down beside her.

‘… who has been lucky enough to do a bit of global travelling, I’ve seen some amazing places. But I don’t think anything can really beat this! I mean – come on! A pool on a roof in the centre of the coolest city in the world? That’s what I call glamour. And look at this weather!’ She gestured up at the cloudless, almost-navy-blue sky. ‘It’s as hot as it looks, and – you know what? I can’t resist that water. Sorry, Patrick …’ This was directed at the cameraman. ‘But I’ve always been able to resist everything but temptation.’ And, holding her nose, she took a running jump into the bright blue pool, covering the camera’s lens with droplets of water.

It was funny, endearing and clearly unscripted.

Poppy hauled herself out of the pool, rubbing the running mascara away from under her eyes, joking with and apologizing to the rest of the crew. The wet hair and lack of concern about her appearance only served to make her look more gorgeous.

‘Sorry about that,’ she said, giggling from the screen. ‘But if you’d been here too, you’d have done the same. God, this is fab. OK, I’d better get on with being professional now …’ People were running up to her with towels, and she thanked them all.

‘Thanks, Susie – you’re an angel.’ Poppy took one of them from a plumpish girl in specs, then continued, with an arm around the girl’s shoulder, ‘This is Susie, my assistant. She’s just brilliant, and won’t be pandering to the likes of me for much longer, will you, Suze?’

Susie, who was clearly besotted with Poppy, laughed. She was used to bitches and divas.

‘And I would like to say, “Hello,” to Mrs Arkwright in Wisconsin – or may I call you Elizabeth? Susie’s told me so much about you!’

‘Hey, Mom!’ Susie grinned, waving at the camera.

‘Actually, Suze, I’m meant to be reviewing the drinks here, but if it’s only me, it’s a bit one-sided, isn’t it?’ Poppy continued, the sun shining off her wet blonde hair. ‘How about we try a couple of cocktails together? For a bit of journalistic even-handedness?’