‘I’m not sure whether I’m talking to you today.’ He stood for a second and glared at Theresa. ‘However, I need to tell you the new plan. Zoe’s idea, actually, and it’s a good one. Like in Scotland, or so she tells me. We’re putting out to tender. We have a set rock-bottom reserve price, one which won’t leave us out of pocket but won’t make us a profit. And we call for offers – sealed bids to be delivered in envelopes by a fixed date. The word is out.’

‘Well, that’s good, I suppose. Good on Zoe.’

‘Anyway,’ William continued. ‘We have two tables booked tonight. Hardly a sell-out.’

‘There’ll be door trade.’

‘We hope.’

‘You don’t sound as thrilled with the clientele as you were last night,’ said Theresa, amused by how William was like a weathercock of moods.

‘No stars of Paris Match or British TV, I gather?’ asked Carol.

‘I don’t know why we bother.’ William pursed his lips and hunched his shoulders. ‘Instead of carrying on this masquerade, perhaps we should give ourselves a night off and just ask them round to our place for dinner.’

‘I gather they’re friends of ours,’ drawled Carol, throwing a wink at Theresa. ‘Not worth bothering about?’

‘Sadly, yes, or is that no?’ William pulled a pile of linen cloths from the cupboard by the door, ready to take them next door to dress the tables. ‘Zoe – table for one. And a table for two for Cyril.’

Sally had had a better afternoon than Eggy. She was on top of her lines and, when he dried, fumbled about or came in on the wrong cue, she tried as best she could to cover for him.

She had hoped that, after the drunken state he had been in the night before, he might have forgotten his offer of drinks at the Negresco for tonight, but no.

‘Phoo is very excited about our soirée,’ he said, while they were being touched up between takes. ‘I phoned and reserved us a table in the famous bar where the Beatles and Elizabeth Taylor drank.’

Sally felt pretty sure that the Beatles and Elizabeth Taylor might have stayed in the hotel but couldn’t imagine any of them nipping down to the public bar for a quickie, while fans screamed outside on the Promenade des Anglais.

Just thinking about crowds on the Promenade at night caused her spit to dry up. She realised that, if she went to the Negresco with the others, it would be her first time walking along the Promenade in the dark since that terrible evening when the terrorist attacked in his speeding lorry.

She had to make sure she was not alone.