'Rebecca, I'll be back in a sec.'
'Fine,' I manage. 'See you in a minute.'
'OK,' says Chloe cheerfully. 'While she's gone, let me put on that lipstick.' She reaches for a long brush and begins to paint in my lips, and I stare at my reflection, trying to keep calm; trying not to panic. But my heart's thumping hard and my throat's so tight, I can't swallow. I've never felt so frightened in all my life. I can't talk in a high-powered debate! I just can't do it. I don't have any opinions, I don't have any facts, I don't know anything…
Oh God, why did I ever want to be on television?
'Rebecca, could you try to keep your lips still?' says Chloe with a puzzled frown. 'They're really shaking.'
'Sorry,' I whisper, staring at my reflection like a frozen rabbit. She's right, I'm trembling all over. Oh God, this is no good. I've got to calm down. Think Zen.
Think happy thoughts.
In an effort to distract myself, I focus on the reflection in the mirror. In the background I can see Zelda standing in the corridor, talking into a phone with a furious expression on her face.
'Yup,' I can hear her saying curtly. 'Yup. But the point is, Bella, we pay you a retainer to be available.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?' She looks up, sees someone, and lifts a hand in greeting. 'OK, Bella, I do see that…'
A blond woman and two men appear in the corridor, and Zelda nods to them apologetically. I can't see their faces, but they're all wearing smart overcoats and holding briefcases, and one of the men has a folder bulging with papers. The blond woman's coat is rather nice, I find myself thinking. And she's got a ponyskin Fendi baguette. I wonder who she is.
'Yup,' Zelda's saying. 'Yup. Well, if you can suggest an alternative phone-in subject…'
She raises her eyebrows at the blond woman, who shrugs and turns away to look at a poster on the wall. And as she does so, my heart nearly stops dead. Because I recognize her. It's Alicia. It's Alicia from Brandon Communications, standing five yards away from me.
I almost want to laugh at the incongruity of it. What's she doing here? What's Alicia Bitch Long-legs doing here, for God's sake?
One of the men turns round to say something to her – and as I see his face, I think I recognize him, too. He's another one of the Brandon C lot, isn't he? One of those young, eager, baby-faced types, But what on earth are they all doing here? What's going on? Surely it can't be-
They can't all be here because
No. Oh no. Suddenly I feel rather cold.
'Luke!' comes Zelda's voice from the corridor, and my stomach starts to churn. 'So glad you could make it. We always love having you on the show. You know, I had no idea you represented Flagstaff Life, until Sandy said…'
In the mirror, I can see my face draining of colour.
This isn't happening. Please tell me this isn't happening.
'The journalist who wrote the piece is already here,' Zelda's saying, 'and I've primed her on what's happening. I think it's going to make really great television, the two of you arguing away!'
She starts moving down the corridor, and in the mirror I see Alicia and the eager young man begin to follow her. Then the third overcoated man starts to come into view. And although my stomach's churning painfully, I can't stop myself. I slowly turn my head as he passes the door.
I meet Luke Brandon's grave, dark eyes and he meets mine, and for a few still seconds, we just stare at each other. Then abruptly he looks away and strides off down the corridor. And I'm left, gazing helplessly at my painted reflection, feeling sick with panic.
POINTS FOR TELEVISION INTERVIEW
SIMPLE AND BASIC FINANCIAL ADVICE
1. Prefer clock/twenty grand? Obvious.
2. Flagstaff Life ripped off innocent customers. Beware.
Ermm..
3. Always be very careful with your money.
4. Don't put it all in one investment but diversify.
5. Don't lose it by mistake
6. Don't
THINGS YOU CAN BUY WITH Ј20,000
1. Nice car eg small BMW
2. Pearl and diamond necklace from Asprey's plus big diamond ring
3. 3 couture evening dresses eg from John Galliano
4. Steinway grand piano
5. 5 gorgeous leather sofas from the Conran shop
6. 52 Gucci watches, plus bag
7. Flowers delivered every month for forty-two years
8. 55 pedigree… labrador puppies
9. 80 cashmere jumpers
10. 666 Wonderbras
11. 454 pots Helena Rubinstein moisturizer
12. 800 bottles of champagne
13. 2,860 Fiorentina pizzas
14. 15,384 tubes of Pringles
15. 90,909 packets of Polos
Twenty
By 11.25 I'm sitting on a brown upholstered chair in the green room. I'm dressed in a midnight-blue Jasper Conran suit, sheer tights and a pair of suede high heels.
What with my makeup and blown-dry hair, I've never looked smarter in my life. But I can't relish my appearance. I can't enjoy any of it. All I can think of is the fact that in fifteen minutes, I've got to sit on a sofa and discuss high-powered finance with Luke Brandon on live television.
The very thought of it makes me feel like crying. Or laughing. I mean, it's like some kind of sick joke. Luke Brandon against me. Luke Brandon, with his genius IQ and bloody photographic memory – against me. He'll walk all over me. He'll massacre me.
'Darling, have a croissant,' says Elisabeth Plover, who's sitting opposite me, munching a pain au chocolat. 'They're simply sublime. Every bite like a ray of golden Provencal sun.'
'No thanks,' I say. 'I… I'm not really hungry.'
I don't understand how she can eat. I honestly feel as though I'm about to throw up at any moment. How on earth do people appear on television every day? How does Fiona Phillips do it? No wonder they're all so thin.
'Coming up!' comes Rory's voice from the television monitor in the corner of the room, and both our heads automatically swivel round to see the screen filled with a picture of a beach at sunset. 'What is it like, to live with a gangster and then, risking everything, betray him? Our next guest has written an explosive novel based on her dark and dangerous background…'
