Resigned, Sam and her mum had started picking up the decorations that had fallen onto the pine needles the tree had already shed, as her dad had taken Ryan upstairs for his medication.

‘It’s great to have you back, love.’

‘Oh, Mum, I can’t tell you how great it is to be home.’ Sam meant it.

After the Flaming Geysers had been signed by Pistol Records, they had been dispatched on tour almost immediately, so Sam had been rattling around the house in Dalston on her own for most of the term. Of course she’d had nights out with Sienna, and spent several evenings at her luxurious new flat in Notting Hill, but Notting Hill was a long way from Dalston, and it had been pretty lonely, really. She had only ventured into college for lectures, seminars and tutorials, steering clear of the Student Union, canteen and bar. Still, she had taken advantage of the solitude at the Crack Den to throw herself into her work, and as a result was getting better grades than ever, and more and more enthusiastic praise from her tutors.

The Flaming Geysers were gaining in fame and popularity by the day, and Dan and Carlota da Silva were rarely out of the tabloids and gossip columns. They made a ridiculously glamorous couple – the rock star and the supermodel – and Sam tried to ignore the pain she felt whenever she saw a picture of them together. She knew it was her fault for blowing it with Dan – she had turned him down twice, after all. Anyway, it was far better for his image to be seen with a supermodel than with her.

Mark had called her earlier that day, and she had been surprised by how little pain she had felt in hearing his voice.

‘Um. I want to say sorry,’ he had said hesitantly. ‘I was an idiot, I know that now. I miss you, Sam. I miss you like hell. Will you please give me another chance?’

Sam, lonely and sad about Dan, wavered for a second. But then she recalled the photos of Karolina Kristova that had made her feel so crap about herself.

‘No, Marky, I’m sorry, I can’t.’ She could hear the steel in her own voice and it spurred her on. ‘I can never trust you again. That girl … that … porn star tart could have been one of hundreds. Even if she was the first, she certainly wouldn’t be the last. There are too many temptations in your job, and I can’t live like that. I’ve got to get on with my own life, I’ve got to concentrate on my studies and get my degree. I can’t be constantly wondering what you’re getting up to. I don’t want there to be any hard feelings, and I hope you have a nice life, but your life isn’t the one for me. Happy Christmas!’

She had done a little dance as she hung up on him, knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, that she’d done the right thing.