’m paralysed with horror. The whole audience has taken one loud, audible breath.

I have just ruined an entire fashion show.

And it’s all my fault.

I stare numbly at Fleur, who is now desperately trying to stand up. Her heels keep slipping, and I can see her eyes filling with tears and her cheeks starting to flame, even under the thick make-up. And with a sick lurch of my stomach, I recognise the humiliation and shame, the disbelief and horror. It’s like looking in a mirror. I’ve just done to Fleur what I promised I would never, ever do to anyone.

I’ve turned her into me.

The entire audience is staring, but the only thing I know now is I have to do something to help her. Anything. Just so Fleur knows she isn’t on her own. So I take a deep breath and sit down on the stage next to her.

There’s a stunned silence. And then, from somewhere at the back, comes the sound of one person clapping as hard as they possibly can.

“Wooooooooo!” Dad shouts at the top of his voice. “That’s my girl! Woooooo!”

The whole audience turns to look at him and Fleur grabs my hand. Slowly, we stand up.

And together we walk off the runway, back behind the curtains.