‘OK.’ I smiled back at him, gripping his arm probably tighter than was the norm. I could see the door to the theatre now. We were almost there. One hurdle down. It was then somebody recognised me and suddenly my name was being called in all directions, or, more accurately, the pen name that I used.

‘Just look up and smile,’ Jack encouraged. I retained my grip on him but also did what he said, trying my best to make it seem natural so the internet tomorrow wasn’t full of pictures of a terrified-looking author caught in paparazzi headlights. Ahead of me, I saw various people with microphones, dressed in evening dress, speaking into cameras, interviewing various people as they walked up the carpet, faces illuminated by extra lighting on top of the camera. Each microphone had a square tab underneath its head, identifying which channel its holder represented. I recognised a few, but others meant nothing, and I assumed they were perhaps from other countries, or one of the many satellite channels. Not exactly being a TV buff, I wasn’t up on these things.

Suddenly someone hurried towards me, calling out my pen name.

‘Astoria? Astoria?’

A tall, beautiful black woman in a shocking pink gown with her hair piled on top of her head was gesturing to an assistant, who breathily asked if they could have a few words for a well-known entertainment channel. Even I’d heard of it, so it had to be pretty big.

Jack was hustled to the side, a little behind me. I looked back over my shoulder at Jack, noticed by both the assistant and the presenter.

‘If you can just wait there for a moment, sir, we won’t be long.’

Jack nodded and stood with his hands in his pockets, before moving to stand behind the camera so that he was out of the way and not just left like a lemon in the middle of the red carpet.

‘Hi, lovely to meet you, Astoria.’

‘Hi.’ I concentrated on breathing so I didn’t squeak too much.

‘I’m just going to ask you a couple of questions, OK? Great,’ she continued, answering her own question. The light on the camera switched on and suddenly both she and I were bathed in what felt like a football pitch floodlight. She didn’t seem fazed by it at all, but it felt unnerving to me. I remembered Jack was close by and had now moved so that I could see him. He gave a subtle, reassuring smile which I returned, feeling my pulse rate drop a little as I did so.

‘Here with me now is Astoria James, the writer of the hit novel that tonight’s premiere is based upon. Astoria?’ She turned to me. ‘This is the first of your novels to be turned into a film, is that right?’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ I answered into the microphone now thrust close to my face. It swung back towards the presenter.

‘And how does it feel to be here tonight? You are famous for being rather a recluse, after all.’