A Step In Time: A feel-good read, perfect for fans of Strictly Come Dancing!

‘Hi Babs.’

‘Bloody bollocking hell, Amy. What the flaming arse have you been doing?’

I held the phone away from my ear as she continued her foul-mouthed tirade. Babs swore like a trooper at the best of times, so when faced with a crisis – like now – she was really filthy. Eventually she calmed down a bit and I cautiously put the phone back to my ear. Her voice softened.

‘How are you?’ she said. ‘Are you holding up?’

I felt close to tears again.

‘Don’t be nice,’ I warned. ‘I am barely holding it together and if you’re nice I’ll crumble.’

‘Chin up,’ Babs said in her no-nonsense Glasgow tone. ‘I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?’

‘Bad,’ I said, bracing myself.

‘The catalogue’s pulled your fashion line,’ she said. I groaned. That was the end of my wardrobe full of free clothes then.

‘And the good news?’

‘Hold on, I’ve not finished the bad news yet,’ Babs said. ‘Your nail varnishes are on hold but it’s not looking good, and I’ve had a call asking you not to come to the premiere tonight.’

‘I’d forgotten all about it,’ I said. ‘And all my clothes are at Matty’s flat anyway.’

‘Where are you staying?’ Babs asked.

‘Phil’s,’ I said, sitting up on the couch and picking up a cushion to hug. ‘He’s looking after me, like always.’

‘Every girl needs a gay best friend, eh?’ said Babs.

I laughed without any real humour.

‘Yeah, well, it’s not quite so fabulous when your gay best friend’s boyfriend hates you,’ I said. ‘I can’t stay there for long.’

‘Where will you go?’

‘Not sure,’ I said. ‘Maybe to my mum’s for a while. Get some sun.’ And a whole lot of grief, though – I was trying not to think about that. Another thought struck me.

‘What’s the good news?’

‘What good news?’

‘You said there was good news’

‘Oh, yes,’ Babs said. ‘I just want you to know that this is not a disaster. I’ve got people out of worse scrapes than a small punch-up in a nightclub.’

I smiled despite myself.

‘It wasn’t really a small punch,’ I said. ‘More of a wallop.’

Babs made a dismissive sound.

‘And my knickers are all over the internet,’ I added, feeling another wave of self-pity.

‘Ach,’ said Babs. ‘It’s fine.’

‘It’s not fine,’ I said. ‘It’s awful. I really just want to go away for a while. Disappear for, like, six months, longer even. I can get off the bloody media roller coaster and lick my wounds, then come back revitalised and ready for a new challenge.’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Babs, I can’t do this,’ I wailed. ‘There are paps everywhere. And Tim’s right – they’re going to dig up every tiny bit of dirt they can. This story will go on and on and on. Unless I disappear and give them nothing.’

‘Oh, get over yourself,’ Babs said. ‘You’re not bloody Greta Garbo. If you disappear now, everyone will forget you. Your career will be over.’

‘Ouch,’ I said. ‘That’s harsh.’

‘It’s true,’ said Babs unsympathetically. ‘But don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.’

‘You have?’ I said, feeling marginally more cheerful.

‘We need to make the most of this interest in you. Use it to our advantage and take control.’

‘And how do we do that?’

‘Oh, it’s easy. We just need people to know how lovely you are,’ she said blithely. ‘Not Betsy – Amy. Your adoring public need to remember why they adored you in the first place.’

‘Right,’ I said, doubtfully. ‘I’m not sure that’s the most straightforward idea you’ve ever had. How would we do it, anyway?’

‘Reality TV, baby,’ she said.

I took the phone from my ear and scowled at it.

‘No,’ I said. ‘No.’

‘Don’t dismiss it, Amy,’ Babs said. ‘It can work wonders.’

‘And it can destroy careers,’ I said.

There was a pause.

‘From where I’m standing, it looks like you don’t have much of a career left to destroy,’ Babs said. ‘When you’ve hit rock bottom, Amy, the only way left is up.’

‘I’m not doing Big Brother,’ I said.

‘Fine.’

‘And only major channels.’

‘Fine.’