I didn’t realise she was going to tell me something so personal, and now that I had that information I was clueless as to what do to with it.

Four hours earlier…

The red light blinked and I turned the microphone towards her. She was still someone who could turn heads when she walked into a room. Even people who were too young to remember her from the days when Arnage Place was the most-watched soap in Scotland were aware they were in the presence of someone special. Thirty years after her last appearance on TV hers was a star that still shone brightly.

Vivienne Whitecroft looked at me with all the focus and intensity that she used to give to the camera. I have to admit to being slightly dazzled.

Her hair was implausibly black, her nails bright red and she wore a bright blue suit that matched her eyes. Her scent smelled expensive and I regreted my tatty Converse and jeans. She pulled up the one of the sleeves of her suit and removed the noisy bangle to sit it on the table in front of us - ever the professional.

“ Shall we begin?” she purred. “ I suspect you’d like me to tell you if I really was the actress who shagged the bishop and initiated Scotland’s biggest sex scandal of the seventies?”

All I could do was nod and pull my chair even closer so I didn’t miss a single soundbite of what she was about to tell me.