He poured the tea and we began to read through the contract, sipping solemnly, nibbling bits of toast. I could not understand any more of it than my own. “It’s all in legal language,” I said. “You’ll have to tell me what it means.”

“I’m not sure I know,” mused Aidan, scanning the pages. “But the bit I’m looking for … ah, this might be it.” He put down his cup and used a corner of his slice of toast to point to a section at the bottom of one of the pages. “Here. I bet you’ve got the same clause in yours. I am under contract to ‘make such public appearances as deemed necessary by the producers for advertising purposes’,” he read. “And in fact, Clara, since I signed this, I’ve had to sign another agreement to the same effect or risk being sued. I was only sacked from the filming, not the subsequent appearances for advertising purposes.”

I looked at him, stricken. “Public appearances! What does that mean?”

“Well…” He finished his toast and began to collect the pages. “Attending the premiere, for a start.”

“But I have no intention of attending the premiere! I never want to see David again. And how can I face anyone else who worked on the picture? Jeanette, and Robert, and … oh God, Simona! I wish the whole film could be destroyed and thrown in the rubbish bin!”

Aidan’s face looked thin and hungry, and his eyes narrowed. “You cannot mean that. And anyway, you have no choice. If David’s wife cites you as the object of his ‘adultery’, it will be all over the newspapers. The story has everything they adore: money, sex, beautiful people and just the right touch of sleaziness to titillate the masses. It will be the biggest scandal of the year. The public will flock to see Innocence so they can nudge each other when you appear on screen and feel superior to this woman of no morals who will sleep with someone else’s husband. You will be mobbed at the premiere. And your future career as an actress will be assured.”

I was horrified. David knew the scandal would help publicize the film. His betrayal had wounded me deeply, but this was worse. He was prepared to sacrifice an ignorant girl at the altar of greed so that he and his money men would be welcome in America. Unlike me, he could leave behind everything he no longer wished to be associated with: Clara Hope, the divorce, the scandal … and his wife.

His wife. Who was she? How long had they been married? Why did they wish to divorce? Did she know about me? Had I actually seen, or even meet her, among those bejewelled butterflies who fluttered around David with their flat chests and flat hair and kohl-rimmed eyes?

“Oh, Aidan.” I folded my arms on the table and put my head on them. “I wish I were dead!”

“No, you don’t.” He hauled me to my feet. “Come on, a breath of fresh air will do you good.”