ver the last year and a half, I have been transformed a dozen times.

I’ve worn dresses covered in tentacles; long pink wigs and net tutus; found myself liberally doused in gold paint and mud and ink and sequins; been lit up by a switch and covered in a sack.

I’ve been a doll in a box, a nomad in a desert.

A glowing Ophelia in a lake.

I’ve jumped in snow and danced in sand; sat down on catwalks and wandered around a sumo stage. I’ve whizzed round in circles and upside down at hundreds of miles an hour; attended parties and crashed into castings.

I’ve turned into so many different people.

But as I walk close behind Tabby, past an enormous mirror to my right, I realise with a jolt that this is a version of me I haven’t seen before.

The yellow dress is flared and glowing in the sunshine; the spiky collar is so high it touches the sides of my head. My face is steady and pale, and my red hair is waved in glossy tumbling curls. The crown on my head is gold and delicate.

I look regal. Powerful. Majestic.

Holding my chin up, I stare at my reflection without flinching or blushing or looking away.

It feels like something has changed.

I don’t feel out of my depth or anxious or out of control any more. I feel as if I know exactly what I’m doing and what I want and how I’m going to get it.

And for just a moment it’s as if I can see both of us, standing side by side: the Harriet Manners of nearly sixteen months ago in a borrowed leopardskin coat and red high heels – terrified and wobbly and uncertain – and this one.

A girl who needs nobody.

A girl with nothing to answer to or bow down in front of: totally in command, strong and free with an untethered heart.

A girl in control of her own story.

Just like Elizabeth.

“I can’t believe we were only going to use two models,” Charlotte says as Tabby and I are led in front of the bright lights. “I’m so glad you brought your little one to the casting, Harriet. Three is so much more interesting.”

“Mmm,” I say quickly. “She’s … uh. My little one all right. AKA belonging to me.”

Then I look round.

We’ve been positioned in a triangle: me, standing up, with Sophia seated to my left in a throne – enormous red gown spread regally out and hair piled high – and Tabby gurgling happily on her lap.

I glance up just in time to see Jasper lean down and say something quietly in Rin’s ear.

She laughs and claps her hands together.

“Well,” someone says as I lean forward to hear a little better, “Harriet Manners. I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.”

I freeze, mid-earwig.

Where do I know that voice fr—

Oh my God: no. You have got to be kidding me. The radius of the earth is 6,371 km: it’s a really big place. Of all the photographers on the planet to choose from, there’s no way that Vogue would have picked …

“Aiden,” I say, spinning around.

“Little Miss Stickers,” he says over the top of a huge camera. “A pleasure, as always. How do you plan on ruining my photo shoot this time?”