up: this is exactly why you should always be careful what you wish for.

Vogue wanted emotion, and they got it.

Loudly and in soggy, snotty streams all over my beautifully styled hair, make-up and priceless dress.

Let’s see if they want a photo to immortalise that.

There’s a stunned silence for about thirty seconds while I bawl into the crook of my arm. A thick layer of powder and foundation is melting all over the fabric, my eyes are inflating and my eyelashes are sticking together in clumps, but I don’t seem to be able to stop.

And that’s when the yelling starts.

“What the hell is going on? What did you DO? WHAT DID YOU SAY TO HER?”

“Umm.” Aiden’s confusion sounds genuine, even through my sobs. “I have absolutely no idea. I was just directing her.”

“TO WHERE?” Jasper shouts. “To the edge of a cliff? Into a gas oven? Off a bridge somewhere? What the HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“You are a very mean man,” Rin adds with more ferocity than I knew she was capable of. “I am cheese off and not full of beans for you. Go and get yourself lost!”

“Well, I’m sorry for doing my job,” Aiden retorts as I start to slow down to a hiccup. “I just asked her for an emotion that was real.”

“It wasn’t him,” I manage, wiping my face on a no-longer-white glove. “I-It’s me. I’m sorry, I’m just … tired.”

I suddenly realise that’s true.

It’s exhausting: keeping everything and everyone under control all the time.

Also, this corset is not helping.

I haven’t inhaled properly in two and a half hours.

“If it helps,” Aiden says, holding up his camera, “those pictures are going to be amazing, Harriet. Probably worth the unattractive mental breakdown.”

Jasper makes an aggressive growling sound at the back of his throat and I shake my head at him gratefully.

Now I’m calming down, I’m actually starting to feel acutely embarrassed.

This is all my own doing, isn’t it?

I let myself get carried away, and I promised myself months ago that I wouldn’t.

“Right.” I give myself a firm shake. I just need to refind my focus, and maybe a bit more oxygen. “Guys, I’m OK, really. So what’s next? I’m ready.”

“No, you’re not,” Aiden says. “You look like you’ve just been steamrollered by a Boots make-up counter.”

He holds up the camera so I can see my reflection in the lens. I’m red, white and black stripes and it looks as if I’m made of hot wax and all my features have slipped four inches down my face.

I’m basically The Scream by Edvard Munch.

“I think your shoot is over for the day now, Harriet,” Aiden continues firmly. “So I may as well head back to the house to shoot Sophia …”

There’s a silence.

Then, slowly, we turn to stare at the enormous maze that surrounds us.

Inexplicably, it looks even bigger.

“OK,” Jasper says. “Any suggestions of how we get out?”

“Left?” Aiden suggests, scratching his head. “Or … no, it’s definitely left. Then straight on. Then left? Or possibly right.”

“Wrong,” Rin offers. “I mean …” She grabs a dictionary out of her handbag. “Right. We go right. Or left. Then left.”

“We’re going to die in here, aren’t we,” Jasper says, deadpan.

Seriously. No wonder I have to concentrate so hard all the time: what would they do without me?

“I’ve got this,” I say, wiping my eyes. “Just follow me.”