The call list was a typewritten piece of paper pinned to a noticeboard outside the dressing rooms. It was, as Aidan had explained, a list of the actors who had been called for filming the next day. I had assumed there would be more leading actors than there actually were. Besides Aidan’s and my own, there were only four main parts: the Comte de Montford’s uncle, a revolutionary leader, his mistress and her maid.

“How can a film about the French Revolution have so few people in it?” I asked Jeanette, who was standing at the call list, frowning. I knew all the action did not take place in one room, like a stage play; I had read the script. So where was everyone else?

“They’ll use extras,” she told me. “You know, people from a theatrical agency who do things like being peasants, Parisians, soldiers and sailors and so on, to make it look realistic. Tomorrow we’re just doing scenes with you six – or five, as it turns out.” She took a pen from behind her ear and crossed out someone called Simona Vincenza. “Miss Vincenza’s agent telephoned last night to say she can’t get here until Thursday. Something about an aeroplane. So that puts the whole schedule out. David’ll be livid.”

“Is she the maid or the mistress?” I asked.

Jeanette laughed so loudly and suddenly that it made me jump. She put her hand up apologetically. “Sorry, but the thought of Miss Vincenza playing a maid is such a hoot! I must tell Harry.”

“Um…” I tried not to look as embarrassed as I felt. “Please don’t, if that’s all right, Jeanette.”

She stopped smiling and regarded me with interest. Understanding came into her eyes. “Oh … very well, of course I won’t. You can’t know what Miss Vincenza’s like, after all.”

“Thank you.”

She was embarrassed that she had considered gossiping about my ignorance. She put her head down so that her hair fell over her face, and busied herself with putting the pen away in the pocket of her dress. “See you tomorrow, then!” she said brightly, and disappeared down the corridor.

My cheeks were still pink when I returned to the dressing room. Maria gave me a curious look but said nothing. I refused Jeanette’s offer to accompany me to dinner and ordered it in my room instead. Unable to fight down my nervousness, I ate very little, made a sketchy, shivery toilette in the hotel bathroom, and went to bed.

I lay awake for a long time, planning not only my own conduct in front of the rest of the cast but also how to deal with Aidan Tobias. I dreaded having to do scenes again and again because he had wrecked them. I went over and over things to say and ways to behave that might discourage him. I toyed with the idea of throwing a tantrum, leading-lady style, threatening to walk off the set unless he behaved himself. But I soon dismissed this. Aidan losing his job did not worry me; losing my own certainly did. And it was with this worrying thought squeezing my brain that I eventually fell asleep.