“Who was the woman who answered the telephone?”

“My housekeeper,” mumbled David, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. He took it out and removed a stray piece of tobacco from his lower lip. “Mrs Schofield. Terrible old tyrant, but she knows her job.”

She had not sounded very old, but I could imagine that the woman who had spoken to me could be tyrannical. “Is it finished, then?” I asked.

He was lighting the cigarette. He looked up at me with his eyebrows raised. “What?”

“The house. Is it finished?”

“Ah! Not really,” he said, and puffed thoughtfully a few times. “Mrs S. was away while the bathrooms were being done as there was no water, but she came back after Christmas to put things straight. They’re starting on the kitchen tomorrow, so she’ll be off again. God knows when the men will eventually quit the place. But now …” – he gave a quick, excited smile – “let me tell you why I wished to see you the instant you arrived. I have something to ask you, and I need to be put out of my misery.” He took my hand. “In the spring, when the film is finished but before I am imprisoned in the cutting room for months, I have a few days free. Would you like to come away with me? Perhaps to the seaside?” His excited look turned to an imploring one. “Please, please say yes, Clara – it would make me the happiest man alive if I could have you to myself, away from here, even for a couple of days. Will you come?”

I took his other hand and held it tight. My heart hammering, I laid my head tenderly on his chest. I did not care that we were in a public place; I did not care if the whole world knew I had found the man I loved. I was so happy I could hardly form the words. “David,” I murmured, “you know I will.” Raising my head, I smiled at him. “There, now. Has that put you out of your misery?”