The next morning, Aidan was in a bad mood. He argued with David, and Dennis, and even Jeanette, to whom he was usually reasonably polite. He swore under his breath during rehearsals and sometimes during our takes as well.

I was disgusted with him. I wished the filming was over, so I would never have to see him again. But I also wished the filming would never be over, so that I could go on seeing David every day. This conflict, and the fact that I had slept little the night before, made me grumpy too. I did not want to be under these lights, perspiring in this costume. I wanted to be in David’s arms, drunk with champagne and love. By the time we had parted last night, I had made up my mind that nothing – nothing – would take me away from my true love. If I had to follow him from film to film across the whole world, I would. If his films were flops and he lost all his money, I would be there, ready to support him. I would bear his children and look after him in sickness and health. If necessary I would give up my life for his, like people did in stories. Our life together would be a story. A love story.

“Aidan, why don’t you just go home?” I asked plaintively. “You’re being even more impossible than usual today, and I can’t stand it.”

He sighed. As he exhaled, the familiar smell of whisky came to me, even though it was only eleven o’clock in the morning. “Then why don’t you go home?” he asked illogically.

He was obviously drunk. Being drunk on the set was one of the very few reasons an actor could be released from his contract. I stepped further away from him. “You had better not let David see what condition you are in if you want to keep your job.”

“I am in perfect condition,” he said bitterly. “Like a well-maintained car. Or a Havana cigar.” He pondered for a second. “Speaking of which, you haven’t got a cigarette, have you?”

Somehow we got through that day’s work. Though I was used to Aidan’s behaviour by now, I suspected it was made worse by his jealousy of David. Neither David nor I could do anything to please him; he criticized my performance, David defended me, Aidan turned away in exasperation and so it went on until we were all exhausted.

I hurried to my dressing room, my nerves strung tight. “Maria, be quick,” I told her breathlessly, unbuttoning my dress, my heart full of excitement at spending another evening with David. “I wish to be ready in case … anyone wants me. And I wish to get away before Mr Tobias!”

Half-smiling, she helped me out of my costume. She did not acknowledge my comment, though she must have been aware of the reason behind it. She might not witness much of the filming, but Aidan’s dresser, Spencer, no doubt privately complained about him to her. I put on my robe and sat down at the dressing-table. “Horrid day today, Maria,” I said, and reached for the cold cream.

“How much longer, Miss Hope, do you know?” she asked as she hung up my dress.

“Mr Penn says we are to finish at the end of January.” I slapped cream on to my cheeks and began to smear it over my face. “If nothing goes wrong, anyway.”

“Let’s hope nothing goes wrong, then. I’ve got a job in the West End coming up.”

“Oh, you’re a theatre dresser too, are you?” I was interested. It had never before occurred to me that Maria, like me and the other actors, might be working for David Penn Productions only under contract and that her future was as uncertain as mine.

She nodded. Her smile had disappeared. “I prefer that work. It goes on longer than a film if the show’s successful. Though it doesn’t pay so well, of course.”

“Of course,” I agreed, though I had no idea. “Tell me, Maria…” I began, but I had no chance to finish my question, because at that moment there was a noise outside the room so loud and unexpected that we looked at each other in astonishment. I got up quickly and Maria opened the door.