One of them hands me a thick wad of papers. 'Ms Springer, isn't it?'

'Lucy.'

'Sure, Lucy. Could you read through this contract and sign your name on every page where I've marked an "X". See, here.' He points to said X on the front page.

'What is this?' I ask. I'm completely confused.

'The contract.'

'Contract?'

'Yeah. We need to start filming as soon as possible, so we need the papers signed, like, yesterday.'

I take the documents from him, murmur 'Thanks', and climb the ladder to my room. Am about to hire a contract killer to find and dispose of Gloria when the witch herself appears at the top of the ladder.

'Gloria!' I say, waving the sheets in the air like a lunatic.

'Oh, I see you have the contract.'

'It appears so. Exactly what's it a contract for? Or shouldn't I ask?'

'No big deal. It's like we talked about - you know, the new reality TV show, Celebrity Renovation Rescue.'

'Is this why you phoned me every other day in Bali? You weren't checking on my welfare, were you? You were just making sure I was tucked away out of sight so you could organise this deal behind my back.'

'But, darling,' Gloria trills, 'how many workmen are here?'

'Well . . .' I think for a moment. 'Eight to ten, give or take.'

'Have you ever had that many builders on-site? Don't answer that because I know you haven't. I'm doing you a favour. You want the house finished. The Celebrity Renovation Rescue team want a guinea pig. And you'll get your face back on TV. It's a win-win situation.'

'But I don't want my face on TV . . . not for this.'

'Let's talk about it rationally. Obviously we can't go ahead without your permission, but, Lucy, all the guys have signed up.'

'Even Joel?'

'Even Creepy Joel.'

'So you don't think he's a crim anymore, as you so politely referred to him?'

'If he's prepared to be seen on national TV, I assume he's not on the run.'

'National?'

'Yes, my lovely, national,' Gloria purrs.

'Well, it explains the changes in Patch,' I muse.

'He's into it in a big way. You won't see him disappearing for an afternoon surf, not while there's a camera crew here.'

I feel myself wavering. 'I really don't know . . .'

'Well, you've only got till five o'clock. We have to sign today so we can get the pilot in the can.'

'Why would they choose my wreck of a house for the pilot?'

'I've pulled a few strings, darling - you know what I'm like.'

'That's what worries me.'

'Think about it. You'll see I'm right. I have to dash but I'll be back. You're looking great, by the way - your skin has a healthy glow and I'm glad to see that the creeping obesity that was threatening to take over your bod has halted.'

'Enough with the flattery. I'm sure you wouldn't want me to get a big head to match my big arse. I'll think about it. Do I have to be on camera?'

'Let's not get bogged down in specifics, dear. We'll talk this afternoon. You just rest up and have a great day.'

In a flash, she's gone. She's definitely up to no good. But at least she's stopped talking about Bali.

I'm going through the mail, mostly bills, when Dom rings. I fill him in on the Max saga.

'I've been over this so many times,' I tell him. 'I'm boring myself, and no doubt you as well.'

'No, you're not, but it doesn't sound like the relaxing holiday you were after.'

'Well, I got to spend some great time with the kids, and I guess Max and I are sorted. Hey, whenever we talk, it's always about me - my problems, my disastrous marriage.

Let's talk about you. What have you been up to the last dozen years?'

'This and that.'

'Come on, give,' I press.

'Okay, I was married but it didn't work out. Totally my fault. She needed more attention than I could ever pay her. Maybe I'm not that good at intimacy. I like my own company.'

'You always have.'

'Yeah. I think she was hoping I'd outgrow it.'

'And you haven't?'

'You haven't seen where I live - I've got a good fifty hectares to myself, apart from the odd wallaby and a few horses. Speaking of which, why don't you bring the kids down next weekend?'

'Thanks, but I really couldn't. Gloria's up to something and I can't let her out of my sight. She's been wheeling and dealing - you know what she's like.'

After hanging up, I kick myself for letting my fantasy feelings for Dom get the better of me. He's concerned for me as a friend. Nothing more. He's a loner, always has been. Why did I let that particular character trait slip my mind?

On the dot of four, Gloria is back with a bottle of Moet and an expectant expression.

'Well?' she says.

'Okay, it's actually been a good day. Eight builders have been here all day and they worked hard, like normal people. They took a couple of fifteen-minute breaks, but other than that they toiled solidly for seven hours. And Patch says that the tiler's coming tomorrow to finish tiling the bathroom and verandah.'

'Impressive, huh?'

'I guess, but I'm still not sure.'

'Darl, this is real life. Face it. you're a single parent raising two expensive, needy, greedy children.'

'Steady.'

'Children who are going to sap all the life and money out of you. Think of the next two weeks as a gentle guiding hand to get you started with your new life.'

'Two weeks? That's all it's going to take?'

'Two weeks tops, maybe three, positively no more than four.'

'Gloria!'

'Kidding, kidding. Two weeks, trust me.'

'Trusting you is like trusting Tom Cruise not to talk about Scientology - it's not going to happen. I don't want to appear on camera and I definitely don't want my kids on TV either.'

Gloria pours me a large glass of champagne. 'To your new and improved life,' she says. 'To success.'

She watches while I take a sip.

'Why do I think you're hiding something?' I say.

'Really, Luce, you're so suspicious. Here, let me top this up for you.' She takes my still full glass and fills it to the brim with bubbles.

'Trish called,' I tell her. 'She blames me for everything.'

'I'd hardly blame you for the bomb.'

'Everything other than that. She said I'd be "the ruin of us all".'

'Cool. So you're the Antichrist now? Really, Luce, why didn't you hang up on her? I think Nadia's definitely got it right about this Trish character. She's a nutcase. But on to brighter topics, like, say the renovation show. The thing is . . .'

Here it comes. I knew it.

'. . . if the renovation program is focused on your home, you need to be seen on camera, don't you think? It's a true reality show. They're keeping all of your tradesmen - at least, those who've been on the job from the beginning -'

'What? No celebrity handymen or gardeners? Jamie Durie's not going to pop in?'

'Nup, it's warts-and-all stuff, totally new concept. Of course, it doesn't hurt that Patch is charming, there are twins on the team and Joel is Jamaican. But you need to show yourself too, Luce.'

'And if I don't?'

'Sweetheart, if you don't cooperate, they'll pull the plug on the whole show.'

'Good.'

'For whom exactly? If the network pulls the plug, not only will you never work on a commercial station again, but your renovation - which has been bobbing along quite nicely in your absence, thanks to me - will get stuck again. You'll have to settle for second-rate appliances, cork tiles, laminate. And you'll become Vinnies' favourite customer. You said as much yourself.'

'Okay, I hear you.'

'These guys will pick up the tab for your renovation to the tune of three hundred thousand dollars - it's not to be sneezed at.'

I gape at her. 'Three hundred -'

'Thousand, yes. Haven't you read the contract?'

'I must have missed that part.'

Gloria smiles. She's got me. For three hundred thousand dollars I'll do almost anything.

'I'll play the game, but not the kids, okay?' I tell her.

'Details, details. Now, hurry up and sign the papers, will you?'

Day 51.

By the time Gloria, my annoying little shadow, turns up on my doorstep a little after ten o'clock, the house has been in full renovation mode for three hours.

'You look exhausted, kid,' she says.

'Thank you so much. What are you doing here?'

'Just checking you're happy, pumpkin,' she beams.

Really? That would be a first. But I don't say it, because I'm trying to think only good thoughts about Gloria (that promise I made to God). Instead, I say, 'I gave Patch the interior paint colours and he even complimented me on my choice. So, cautiously, you could say I'm happy.'

'Good, because I want you to be happy, you know that, don't you? Now, down to business. Three camera crews are setting up today and they'll be here for the duration.'

She introduces me to the main guy, Digger - not his birth name, I assume. He's lanky, with a mop of sandy hair skimming his eyelashes. He holds out his right hand. As I shake it, I notice a thick fur of chest hair poking out from his faded navy V-neck jumper.

'The show's host should be here any minute,' Gloria says, checking her watch.

'A host?' I say, just as the door bell rings. 'You didn't say anything about a host.'