He released me, looked round the room and opened a door in the corner. It led to a narrow bathroom, old-fashioned like the rest of the hotel but containing the essential fittings. Opposite the door was another door, bearing a brass number, 256. “Oh!” I exclaimed in surprise. “The bathroom is between our two rooms!”

David was feeling in his pocket for his cigarettes. “Clever, isn’t it? That’s why I booked them. Better than tiptoeing down the corridor to the bathroom in the middle of the night.” He paused to light up. “The sooner European hotels start putting a private bathroom in every room, like they do in America, the better.”

I could not imagine a hotel with as many bathrooms as bedrooms. It seemed impossibly extravagant. “I don’t think that will ever happen,” I told him doubtfully. “But yes, it is nice to have a bathroom just for us.”

He exhaled smoke. “I’m going across to my room now. You’re right, we could both do with a wash and brush-up. Get changed too, and we’ll go out and find some dinner. Knock when you’re finished, will you?”

He kissed me swiftly on the cheek, unlocked the door that led to his room, gave me a mock-salute with the hand that held the cigarette, and disappeared. I put my case on the bed and undid the catches. On the top, wrapped in tissue paper, lay a new silver-beaded gown. I took it out and held it against me, humming happily. Mr Mitchell-Drew and his companion, Miss Clara Williams, were going to be the smartest couple in Brighton tonight; David had said so when he had presented me with the dress on the last day of filming, describing it as an “end-of-picture gift”. David never seemed able to admit that he bought me beautiful things merely because he wished to.

I laid the dress on the bed and used the bathroom, then I knocked on David’s door. “All yours!” I called.

There was no answer for a few seconds, then I heard a muffled sound, which I took to be his acknowledgement of the empty bathroom. I went back into my room and closed the bathroom door, unbuttoning my blouse, my mind busy, wondering which shoes out of the two pairs I had brought I should put on for dinner. Would we be dancing? Should I wear the more comfortable pair?

I took off my blouse and skirt, and pulled up my petticoat to take off my stockings. But as I took hold of the fastenings on my suspender-belt, there was a sudden noise, and a flash. And there, in that ordinary room in an old-fashioned hotel in a place that should have been called Creamton, my world ended.