I froze with my face in the duck sponge. I hadn’t even heard her come in.

“Lana?” my mother bawled. “Lana, are you going to be out of there soon? I need to go to the toilet.”

I’d blown all my birthday money on a new outfit that was special enough for Planet Hollywood. It was absolutely fabulous. The dress was silky and black, with thin straps dotted with rhinestones and a rhinestone heart on the left breast. I saw Julia Roberts wearing something very similar on a chat show. The dress was so clingy that you couldn’t wear anything underneath except really thin tights. I got silver tights in Sock Shop that were really thin but glittery, though not too glittery. Glittery like Cher would wear, not glittery like Baby Spice. And I bought this black lace jacket to go over the dress.

But the most expensive things I bought were the shoes. They were incredible. They were black and silver, with chunky six-inch heels, thick soles and ankle straps. They were the kind of shoes you’d wear if you were going to the Oscars. The old cow would have a fit if she knew how much I spent on those shoes.

I had some articles I’d cut out of magazines that showed you how to make yourself up like a model. I spread them out on my dressing-table with all my new make-up. Foundation, lipgloss, eye shadow, mascara, eyeliner – I had the lot in the trendiest autumn shades. I teetered in front of the mirror, trying to get my face just right. It’s important to look natural, but more perfect than natural. One of the articles said you should dust a little talc on your lashes to hold the mascara better, but that didn’t work too well. I got powder in my eyes and everything started running. I had to go back to the bathroom to wash it all off and start again.

Charley arrived straight from the garage while I was rubbing fresh Nivea into my skin. The old cow started banging on the door again.