While he was in the gents, Sally had a brainwave.

She phoned Carol and in as few words as possible explained the situation. Carol laughed and said she’d be right there.

Sally used the time waiting for the van to appear trying to get Eggy a bit sobered up. She took him out of the bar and walked him round the square, but he kept slipping down to the ground. He was very heavy to lift back to his feet. He must be all of six foot tall, and these days had quite a paunch on him.

In the darkness she pushed his arm over her shoulder and led Eggy down through winding alleyways to the main road which led up into the village. As they staggered along, Eggy continued trying to grope her.

‘You don’t want to do that, Eggy.’ Each time she firmly shoved him away. ‘We’re working together tomorrow. You’ll be embarrassed.’

A car turned around the sharp bend coming up the hill. The headlights lit them, blinding them both. Eggy’s face slumped once more into Sally’s shoulder.

As the van pulled up, Sally bent low to the driver’s window to explain a bit more to Carol.

‘He’s totally plastered. We’ll have to squeeze him into the front seat.’

Sally dragged Eggy round the bonnet and shoved him into the van.

Carol glanced at him, then did a double take.

Sally edged in, shunting Eggy along, and slammed the door.

Carol turned the engine over.

‘Let’s get you both home, eh? So, Sally, how do you know this old soak? New romance? Been keeping him a big secret from us?’

‘No, no. Nothing like that.’ Sally reached for the centre seat belt and strapped Eggy in, before clicking her own in place. ‘I’ve known him for years and years. When I was starting out in the business I was a junior in a theatre company with him and his wife. You recognised him?’

‘Oh yes.’ Carol’s voice carried a dark determination. ‘So, you sneaked off for a secret date together?’

‘No. No, Carol. We’re working on the same project. Filming. It was a very long and tricky day and we decided afterwards to go for a drink. Who knew that this place was so utterly cut off? It was a mistake. He went on and on about his wife, who’s staying in town with him. To be frank, it was grim. I should have gone straight home.’

‘He’s not divorced then?’

‘Oh God, no. Very much still together with the wife.’

‘At the very least I would have expected him to be a widower.’

‘He’s half of Theatreland’s golden couple.’ Sally’s mind flitted to the conversation she had overheard with the casting director and she stammered out: ‘They both came to supper at La Mosaïque a few nights ago. Don’t you remember them? Eggy and Phoebe Markham.’