One person never seemed to have a break. The film set was haunted by a young woman with fashionably bobbed hair, who scribbled constantly on a notepad. Her eyes darted everywhere; she missed nothing, and when Aidan and I left the set she photographed it solemnly, from several directions, with a still camera. I could not fathom what she was doing.

She was friendly towards Maria, Harry, Dennis and Jeanette, so when a suitable moment arrived near the end of the day, I approached her. “And you are…?”

Her eyebrows shot into her fringe. “I’m Kitty!”

“And what is your job, Kitty?”

“Continuity, Miss Hope.”

“Continuity?”

She lowered her notepad and showed it to me. “Well, you see, I make sure everything’s exactly the same on the set for the next time.”

This meant little to me. “Um … the next time?”

“For going back over the scene. If you’ve got your hand under your chin when the camera films you from the front, Miss Hope, you’ve got to have it there when it films you from the back, and that could be on a different day altogether. If I didn’t note it down and take a photograph, we’d be forever going over bits of film and taking ages, and Mr Penn wouldn’t be pleased!”

“Oh, I see.” I did not, really. A different day altogether?

“And Dennis!” she added in a rush. “He’s a stickler for continuity!”

I seized this opportunity. “Tell me, Kitty, what is Dennis’s job, exactly?”

“Why, Miss Hope” – she was trying to hide her astonishment – “Dennis is the AD. The Assistant Director.”

“And Mr Penn is the Director?”

“Yes, and the Producer, too. He’s the big boss, and Dennis is our … immediate boss.”

“Oh.” I pondered for a moment. “I thought Jeanette was Mr Penn’s assistant.”

Kitty was beginning to look uncomfortable. “She is. She looks after him, like a secretary, and you know, manages everyone.”

“And Maria?”

“She’s the Wardrobe Mistress. The girls in costume and make-up are under her.”

“And you are under Dennis?”

She nodded. “And Harry too. They work together, under Mr Penn.”

“And the grips work under them, too?”

“That’s right.” She waited politely in case I had any more questions, then, tucking her notepad under her arm, she gave a nervous nod and made her escape.

I sighed. The business of film-making appeared to have class divisions as complicated as those of Britain itself. From the King to the vagabond tramping the lanes of Wales, everyone had their place, and so it seemed at Shepperton. With so many social tripwires all around me, how could I possibly stay on my feet?

“You look miserable,” said a voice at my elbow. “Justifiably, I’m sure.”

It was Aidan. In his drawn face I saw my own exhaustion. “Not miserable,” I told him, “but tired.”

“Hah! We’ve hardly done anything today, with only you and me here!”

He could tell from my expression that I did not know what he meant, and smiled without humour. “I suggest you go and look at the call list Jeanette’s put up. Tomorrow the rest of the cast of this ghastly enterprise will turn up for work, and believe me they’re a pretty rum crew. I’ve worked with a couple of them before. You’d better watch your step.”

I took little notice of his words. Whatever happened tomorrow, I was ready for it. Shepperton might be a place as far removed from Haverth as fairyland but, bewildered as I still was, I had realized two things. First, my contract would not allow me to get away from these people until we had completed the film, even if I wanted to. And second, I did not want to. Everything I had dared to imagine as I sat on the farm gate was here. Modern surroundings and modern people. Beautiful things and beautiful people. Knowledge, worldliness, power, achievement, creativity – all showered with the glamorous light of the cinema screen. I knew I stood on the threshold of a shadowy place that would present unimagined challenges. But I was ready for them. Now I was here, I wanted to stay in fairyland.