Eggy gazed down into his empty glass, then mournfully picked up the bottle and refilled it.

‘I feel rather badly about everything so far, you know, Sally. And I think it would be a decent gesture to ask you, please give us a second chance. And perhaps I could offer you and a friend – maybe that sailor chappie, or the nice lady you own the restaurant with – a little treat: dinner or drinks, somewhere really nice, to make all good. What do you say?’

To be truthful, another evening with Phoo wasn’t exactly on Sally’s bucket list, but she realised that there was no way she could refuse this invitation without seeming churlish.

‘Drinks sounds like the better idea. After work one evening.’

‘Why not tomorrow? It’s good to wind down after filming.’ Eggy took another swig of wine. ‘Where’s the poshest place for a drink around these parts?’ he asked.

‘Le Negresco,’ Sally replied. ‘It’s in Nice.’

‘Drinks at Le Negresco it is.’

Eggy once more lifted his glass to clink with Sally.

It was decided. Tomorrow she would go for drinks with Eggy and Phoo. Sally hoped she could contact Jean-Philippe and that he would be free.

After a slightly uncomfortable silence they got to chatting about mutual friends: actors and directors from Sally’s past, some still working, others dead or retired.

Eventually the subject came back to the film of the moment.

‘So, after so many years out, how did you get into this movie, Salz? Local contact?’

‘It’s complicated.’

‘Complicated?’

Sally wished she hadn’t used that word. How she was in the film couldn’t be nearly as complicated as the way Eggy got the part. She decided that honesty was the best policy: ‘I was asked by the producer.’

‘Marina Martel?’

Sally nodded, hoping she didn’t sound too grand.

‘Wow!’ Eggy gave a whistle of approval. ‘For me, I’m just close to the casting director and she knew I was staying down here, and so, well, when the other bloke dropped out . . .’

‘Close to the casting director? Really?’ asked Sally, scrutinising his face for telltale tics.

‘Yes, yes.’ He waved his hand. ‘You know how it goes. We’ve known one another for ages. Over the years I’ve had a lot of work through her.’

‘I suppose she suggested Phoo for my part?’

‘Erm . . . no.’ Eggy blushed a deep red. ‘No. Not at all.’ He topped up his glass and took a gulp. ‘Quite the reverse in fact.’

He really did seem profoundly uncomfortable. Sally knew that Phoo had pressed for her role and that Eggy had opposed it. But from the shade of aubergine flooding Eggy’s countenance, Sally suspected there was a lot more going on than that. Something perhaps to do with a certain casting director’s pregnancy?