Aidan insisted I sleep in the only bedroom, while he settled down on the little sofa – uncomfortably, I was sure. I slept as if I had been beaten over the head and left for dead. Aidan did not wake me. When I eventually appeared in the sitting-room at half past twelve the next day, bathed, and dressed in my only remaining clean blouse, he handed me a buff envelope and said, “Have a look at that while I make some breakfast. Then get your hat and we’ll go out, shall we?”

I went to the window and looked at the street, which daylight had revealed to be a mews behind large houses, narrow and cobbled, with a gutter down the middle. The envelope, which was unsealed, contained a collection of folded papers. The stiff cream paper reminded me of the correspondence I’d received from David Penn Productions, and when I held the title page to the light I realized why. In my hands was Aidan’s contract.

“Why have you given me this?” I asked when he came in with a tray of tea and toast.

“Because I’m assuming you haven’t got yours about your person.” He put down the tray and straightened up. “You didn’t drink the tea I made for you last night, you know. Don’t you like my tea?”

“Oh … last night!” I shrugged helplessly. “I was beside myself. I did not know what I was doing. The tea was probably as delicious as the soup, but I forgot all about it. Sorry.”

Aidan smiled, and nodded towards the contract in my hand. “I reckon your contract is much the same as mine, though you probably get paid more than I do. You said last night that David told you to read your contract, so maybe if we read mine, we can work out what he meant.”

This was obviously a good idea. “Thank you, Aidan,” I said, hoping he would believe I was sincere. “You’ve helped me more than you needed to, you know.”

He put his hands in his pockets and raised his thin shoulders in his nervous way. “I believe our American friends would say ‘Aw, shucks, ma’am’ in this situation. So put it on the table and let’s look at it.”