It turned out that the question-and-answer session with Hawthorne and myself had attracted about eighty people; not quite up there with ghosts and mirrors, but still a reasonable crowd. As I took my place on the stage with Colin Matheson in the middle and Hawthorne on the far side, I quickly cast an eye over the audience. First, the absences. Over dinner, Anne Cleary had said she would definitely come, but I could hardly blame her for changing her mind. Marc Bellamy and Kathryn Harris were at The Lookout, preparing their thousand-calorie treats for the evening party. More surprisingly, there was no sign of Judith Matheson and I leaned over to ask Colin what had happened.

‘She sends her apologies,’ he said. ‘We had a problem at the house this afternoon and she had to stay behind to sort it.’

‘Nothing serious, I hope.’

‘No. Just annoying . . .’

On the plus side, Elizabeth Lovell and her husband were sitting in the back row with George Elkin. Maïssa Lamar had also decided to show up, although without her mysterious friend from the airport. And Charles le Mesurier had been true to his word. He had arrived at the last moment and was making his way down to two reserved seats near the front.

He was not alone. He had said he was going to come with someone who worked for him and sure enough he was being followed by a second man who was supporting himself with a walking stick. He had clearly done serious damage to his left leg, which moved almost with a life of its own, out of sync with the rest of him. He was at least ten years older than le Mesurier. Dressed, unnecessarily, in a suit and tie, he was already sweating in the crowded cinema. There was something bullish about him: his steel-rimmed glasses, ruddy cheeks and black hair like a streak of oil across his head. He was scowling, perhaps with the effort of keeping up. It didn’t help that he had a reserved seat right in the middle of the third row. Sitting next to an aisle would have been easier. Part of me even wondered if le Mesurier had chosen it deliberately? He was smiling as his friend manoeuvred himself across with difficulty and tumbled rather than sat down.

The house lights dimmed.