’d always assumed that on TV, when it looks like the presenters are in a living room, they’re actually, you know, in a living room. With a nice painting, a fireplace and maybe a few bookshelves for perusing while the cameras weren’t rolling.

But it’s just a stage with a few sofas, and a big open black space full of wires and intense-looking people. Frankly, I can’t help but feel a little cheated.

“Good morning, sweetie,” the chirpy blonde presenter says as I perch nervously on the edge of one of the sofas. “I’m Jane. I bet this is early for you, isn’t it?”

I nod, even though I’m not quite sure what Jane’s talking about. It’s 7.30am – precisely the time I’m normally shouting at Dad to get out of the shower.

“And I’m Patrick,” a slightly older man says, leaning forward to shake my hand, and then leaning a little further to do the same to Nick. “Don’t be nervous, guys. This is just a bit of fun, right?”

“You know,” Nick says in his slow drawl, “I just can’t remember when I’ve had more.” Patrick nods enthusiastically.

Yuka clears her throat in my ear. “Tell Nick that if he doesn’t stop being facetious, he’s doing his next show in a dress.”

I lean forward and pass the message on.

“Awesome,” Nick says, laughing. “Tell her to make sure it has sequins on it this time.”

I keep looking anxiously into the dark space, but I can’t see Nat, or Dad, or Annabel, Wilbur or even Toby. What was the point in stuffing themselves into that taxi if nobody’s here now? Where’s my stalker when I need him?

I look at Nick with my eyes wide. “Remember,” he whispers under his breath. “No biggy.”

I breathe out and can feel the panic starting to leave again. It’s only six minutes. Just six minutes of saying whatever Yuka wants me to say, and then I can go to school and be normal again.

“Getting ready to go live,” one of the cameramen shouts. “In ten, nine, eight…”

I look around the dark again.

“Seven, six, five…”

Where are they?

“Four, three, two…”

And suddenly – with the softest of shuffles – the five of them scoot into the room at the back. My entire body relaxes as if somebody’s just cut all of the cords holding me upright. Nat holds her thumbs up and Dad points dramatically to Annabel’s lower stomach, mimes going to the toilet and shrugs. Wilbur gives a little dancing move and then shoots me with the imaginary gun of his fingers. Toby simply stands there and grins at me.

“One,” Jane says. And I’m live on air.