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She has just split up with the successful rapper and producerMac Miller, whom she makes an excellent feminist point outof not discussing (“Call her by her name” is her waspy verdictwhen she sees famous women defined by their other halvesin headlines). She has made a few public forays in the pastfew months – performing at the March for Our Lives inWashington, DC, in March, for example, and doing a surpriseturn at Coachella – but has spent most of her days in thestudio, and her nights at home. She had therapy and watched“a lot of Grey’s Anatomy”. She cooked with her family – “we’regoing to make sauce tonight, so Italian, with zucchini pasta”- and went for many “six-mile runs”. Some days, when shewas feeling really awful, she would do the previouslyunthinkable and just “get in bed and, you know, have a day”.For the first time in her short life, she paused. And so for all the tears, as she sits petting Toulouse highup in her superstar’s eyrie, Grande seems ready to return toearth. “You put so much time and so much of yourself intosomething, and then all of a sudden you give it to the worldand it’s no longer yours,” she says of the juggernaut albumshe is about to reveal. In time, our conversation drifts to thepower of pop, the power of having 200 million followers, andthe state of the world today, until eventually Ariana gives alittle shrug. “Sometimes,” she says, “it’s kind of just aboutbeing the light in a situation.” Qstance on homosexuality, and at 14 she made her way toNew York to become a theatre pro. The objective was alwaysa huge recording contract, but accepting that she was stilltoo young for the sort of chart success she wanted, shesmartly moved into tween TV, relocating to Hollywood tostar in the Nickelodeon hits Victorious and Sam and Cat.In fact, her music career is barely five years in – thoughthe monster hits have been constant and myriad. “Problem”,“One Last Time”, “My Everything”, “Bang Bang”, “Side toSide” and now “No Tears Left To Cry”... for a certain sortof teen and twentysomething, Ariana has been the soundtrackto their lives. Yet, in some ways, her own growing up wasrapid and tough. She points out that in the past decade shehas, by choice, worked almost every day. “I think I’m morecomfortable working than I am doing real-life things.”Last year, of course, things became all too real. I tellher how extraordinary it was to watch her perform atthe One Love concert, how in the pit of the tragedyshe became an authentic touchstone for love. Shestarts to cry. “I was expecting this,” she apologises. “It’s just asmuch as time passes, and as much time you try to spendprocessing it, I don’t think one will ever know how to really,fully process it... I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to burst into tears.”She gathers herself. The tribute concert meant so much toher – she wants to address it. “I have always loved England,but I’ve never seen a city or a country take something thatportrays the absolute worst of humanity and turn it intosomething that portrays the best and the most beautiful,” shesays. “I don’t think there are enough words to describe my loveand adoration for the people of Manchester.” She still sees herlocal fans talking to each other online, and is impossibly moved.“Harry Styles had a concert coming up in Manchester and Iknow some of my fans were going, and it was their first timegoing to a concert in that venue since mine. I was so proud ofhow they were interacting with one another and caring forone another...” she says, her voice faltering.She met with all the victims’ families and almost all theinjured, and remains in touch with many of them. “I thinkabout certain interactions that I had with people when I wasthere all the time and I wonder how they’re doing. You know,Saffie’s father...” Saffie Roussos was the eight-year-old girlwho was killed that night. “I check in with Millie [Robson, 15at the time, left with shrapnel in her legs] often on Twitter,”she says. Almost every word brings fresh tears. It’s hard, I say,not to imagine that the dizziness and extreme anxiety you facedwhen you got home weren’t actually signs of post-traumaticstress disorder? “I hate... yeah... admitting it but it very muchis,” she says, bringing her knees up to her chest. “That’s whateveryone was telling me. It’s hard to talk about because so manypeople have suffered such severe, tremendous loss. But, yeah,it’s a real thing. I know those families and my fans, and everyonethere experienced a tremendous amount of it as well. Time isthe biggest thing. I feel like I shouldn’t even be talking aboutmy own experience – like I shouldn’t even say anything. I don’tthink I’ll ever know how to talk about it and not cry.”There is something so heartbreaking about her having criedoff the perfect shelf of signature eyeliner she had earlier applied.She just looks so impossibly young. Panicking that she’s worryingme, she jumps up to put some more music on. “Sorry, sorry!”she keeps saying. There was a time when Grande had a reputationfor being a bit difficult – or its sexist equivalent, “a diva” – andcertainly most children who become this famous are wired alittle differently. Yet her principal worries today are entirelyabout others. The takeaway is that she is extraordinarily kind.``````“ENGLAND TOOK SOMETHINGTHAT PORTRAYS THE ABSOLUTEWORST OF HUMANITY ANDTURNED IT INTO SOMETHINGTHAT PORTRAYS THE BEST ANDTHE MOST BEAUTIFUL”