‘Fine.’
‘And only major channels.’
‘Fine.’
‘And I get to choose which show.’
There was silence.
‘Babs, I get to choose.’
‘Fine,’ she said, grudgingly.
‘And minimal publicity,’ I said. ‘I’ll do what I have to do, but not too much. I’ve got to get away from all this.’
Babs made a huffing sound.
‘You can’t hide away,’ she said.
I wished I could, but I knew she was right really. I bit my lip.
‘I’ve got contacts everywhere – I’m sure we can get you into something,’ Babs went on, oblivious to my misgivings ‘Have a think and let me know what you want me to focus on. But do it soon. We need to strike while the iron’s hot.’
‘Okay,’ I said, suddenly feeling very tired. ‘I’ll have a think.’
‘Amy,’ Babs said. ‘It’s going to be okay, you know.’
I tried to smile but it was more of a grimace.
‘Yeah, we’ll see,’ I said. ‘We’ll see.’
‘Was it awful?’ Phil said, giving me a sympathetic look as he adjusted the hat on a mannequin.
I flopped dramatically over the low table where he showcased his most exclusive designs to his poshest customers.
‘So awful,’ I said. ‘I can’t even tell you how bad.’
‘Don’t put fingermarks on that table,’ Phil warned.
I gave him a fierce look but sat up anyway.
Well, it’s done now,’ Phil said. ‘You’ve filmed your last scenes. Betsy is no more.’
He paused.
‘So who killed her then?
I shrugged.
‘Not a clue,’ I said. ‘It was just one of the props guys who dealt the fatal blow – they only filmed his hand. They’ll add in someone later, when they decide who the killer’s going to be.’
Phil made a face.
‘It’s not a great ending,’ he said. ‘Still, onwards and upwards.’
Phil’s relentless cheeriness was what had brought us together at school. I loved him because, like me, he was always up for a party, because he understood what made me tick, and because he adored me. And we all need a bit of adoration in our lives, right?
Our friendship had lasted through several boyfriends (his and mine), broken hearts (his and mine), career highs (his and mine) and career lows (mostly mine), and he’d obviously been the person I’d run to when the shit hit the fan with Matty. The only fly in the ointment was Phil’s boyfriend, Bertie, who thought I was a bad influence (he was probably right) and who had not been pleased to see me when Phil brought me home, hungover and tear-stained, after spending hours in a cell.
Now Phil gently lifted my arm and extracted a fabric swatch from beneath my elbow.
‘What happens now?’ he said. ‘Where does Amy Lavender go from here?’
Self-pity overwhelmed me again and my throat began to ache with the promise of more tears.
‘Oh, Phil,’ I said. ‘I don’t know. What am I going to do?’
He put his arm round me.
‘You’ll bounce back, sweetie,’ he said. ‘You always do.’
But that made me feel even worse.
‘Everyone dumps me,’ I said quietly. ‘‘Eventually, everyone gets fed up with me and they dump me.’
‘That’s not true,’ Phil said.
‘It is true.’ I sniffed and Phil thrust a tissue box in my direction.
‘Matty dumped me,’ I said. Phil opened his mouth, probably to tell me I was well shot of Matty – he’d never been a fan – but I gave him a look and he closed it again.
‘Tim dumped me from Turpin Road,’ I went on. A tear ran down my cheek. ‘Even my own mum, Phil. She dumped me.’
‘She didn’t dump you,’ Phil said, wiping my tear away with a folded tissue. ‘She just took a chance to make a better life for herself.’
‘In Spain,’ I pointed out. ‘Hundreds of miles away from me.’
‘You could have gone with her,’ Phil said. ‘She asked you to go.’
‘Only because she knew I wouldn’t,’ I said.
‘Have you spoken to her, since all this happened?’
‘God no,’ I said. ‘She’s only interested in me when things are going well. I bet she’s taken that photo of me down from the wall in her bar already. “My daughter the screw-up” isn’t half as impressive as “my daughter the soap star”.’
Phil chuckled, ruefully.
‘You’ve still got me, honey,’ he said. ‘You’ll always have me.’
I forced myself to smile at him.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘PhAmy for ever, right?’
‘Right,’ he said, kissing my nose.
But I wasn’t convinced. Phil had been my rock for years. My best friend, my support network, everything. But since he’d met Bertie I felt like I had to fight for his attention and I wasn’t sure I liked sharing him.’
‘So what are you going to do?’ Phil asked again. ‘Can I help?’
‘Would you?’ I asked, flashing him my best, most beseeching smile.
‘What do you need?’
‘Well, first I need to go and get all my stuff from Matty’s. The only clothes I’ve got are what I had at work – and I’m running out of knickers. But I can’t face him on my own, so will you come with me? Please?’
Phil put his arm round my shoulders again.
‘Of course,’ he said, kissing the top of my head. ‘I’ve got a few things I’d like to say to Mr Matthew actually.’
I grinned. Phil was always fighting my corner.
‘And then, I need you to help with one more thing,’ I said. ‘I need to choose a reality TV show. Babs reckons that’s the best way to get the public back on my side.’
Phil, who, if he ever went on Mastermind, would choose the specialist subject Reality TV 2000–2015, gave a deep, satisfied sigh.
‘She’s right,’ he said. ‘She’s completely spot-on. Ooh, she’s clever.’
‘She should be,’ I grumbled. ‘I pay her enough.’
‘So which show?’ Phil said.
‘I convinced her to let me choose,’ I told him. ‘Babs reckons she can get me on anything. You know what she’s like – she knows all the right people. I’m just not sure it’s the right thing to do.’
Phil looked at me appraisingly, his head tilted to one side. Then he nodded.
‘Of course,’ he said in delight. ‘It’s perfect.’
‘What?’ I said, suspicious