During one of their trips into the desert, Ben had called Poppy to tell her what had happened with Natalia. Even Damian had been impressed.

‘Can I call him back?’ he’d asked, once Poppy had told him about Ben’s unlikely heroics, and Poppy had handed him her phone, hoping against hope that everything would be OK.

‘Ben? It’s Damian. I was your best friend, if you remember, before you decided to shag my wife …’

Oh, fuck, Poppy had thought.

‘Yeah, yeah, I know she wasn’t my wife at the time …’ Pretty crass thing for Ben to be pedantic about, Poppy had thought. Clearly, Ben had realized this too, as Damian had started to smile, looking as if he was feeling a bit better about himself. ‘OK, enough with the apologies. I still think you’re a cunt. But I do think I should give you credit for saving Natalia’s life. She’s an extraordinary woman. Er – well done, mate.’

Having hung up, Damian had said to Poppy, ‘You know what? I think I want to see him now. Him, and Jack Meadows, if that can be arranged …?’

‘Um, yes, I’m sure it can,’ Poppy had said. ‘Are you going to tell me why?’

‘Because if everything you say is true, I want to see you with both the vain cunts, just to put my mind at rest. See what they’re like around you. Surely, you can give me that, Pops?’

Of course she could give him that (she had nothing to hide, after all), and together they had driven all the way to LA – the originally intended final destination.

And they’d all got on just fine. It was obvious to Damian that Ben was completely besotted with Natalia. And now that he wasn’t blinded by jealousy, he could see that Jack was a thoroughly decent sort of chap, too. If he’d fancied Poppy to start with (and who could blame him, really?), he now did seem to respect the fact that she was off-limits as a married woman. And Filthy and Heather, Jack’s parents, had welcomed him with open arms, which had been bloody brilliant, he’d had to admit. Filthy Meadows was a legend, after all.

Now Poppy’s phone rang from the white-painted wicker bedside table.

JACK MEADOWS came up on the screen. She didn’t know any other Jacks, but it was pretty fucking cool to have a film star stored in her contacts list. Surely anybody, given half the chance, would have stored him under his full name?

‘Hey, Poppy,’ he started.

‘Hey, Jack. Um … does this mean you’ve read it?’ She looked at the time on her phone: 9.35 a.m. It was half-past one in the morning in LA.

‘I’ve read it, and I love it! In fact, I couldn’t put it down, which is why I’m calling you at this ungodly hour.’ Poppy could hear him smiling down the phone. ‘Can I speak to Damian now?’

‘Oh, my God, that’s amazing! Yes, wait a sec, I’ll just wake him up …’