When she got back to her trailer to change costume for the next scene, she quickly phoned Jean-Philippe to invite him along. It wasn’t simply that she couldn’t face another night with Eggy’s wife, but she doubted she could face the horror of revisiting her own trauma alone. After a number of rings, Jean-Philippe’s voicemail kicked in. With a sinking heart, she left a message, now wishing she had asked him earlier. She knew his routines and, if he wasn’t answering, the likelihood was that he was out at sea, either repositioning someone’s yacht or giving lessons. He might be miles away, far along the coast, and, when he got home, no doubt his only desire would be to open a beer and lie on a sofa in front of the TV.

She flicked through her phone wondering who else she might invite. There was always Marianne, but the very thought of having her daughter there alongside Phoo chilled her. If Phoo went off on one of her rants, she couldn’t face Marianne being a witness. Especially as she would quite likely spoil for a fight.

Everyone at the restaurant would be working tonight, though possibly Carol could manage to skive off, while ostensibly doing a delivery.

Or there was Zoe …

Sally’s immediate reaction to that was NO.

A sharp rap on her door shook her out of the planning for this evening.

‘Miss Doyle. We’re ready for you on set now!’

While they both shuffled about, shifting positions between takes, Eggy kept whispering to her.

‘Got your date arranged yet, Salz? We’re quite open-minded, you know.’

Sally had no idea what he was talking about. Perhaps it was because Jean-Philippe was a lot younger than her. But he was only her good friend and companion. She opened her mouth then realised she couldn’t be bothered to start explaining.

Another time Eggy leaned forward and said, ‘Phoo is thrilled about tonight. She’s never been to the Negresco before. It has quite a reputation. And, of course, she wants to stroll along the famous Promenade des Anglais . . .’

Again, at the very mention of that road, Sally felt her heart skip a beat.

It might have been a few years back now, but the memory of the fright always lurked beneath the surface.

As action was called, Sally realised that her mouth was dry. Her words came out fuzzy. She wondered whether she might not be able to pull out of this evening without being rude. But as Eggy was standing right here beside her it was obvious she couldn’t throw a sickie.

Once the pair of them were wrapped for the day, Eggy walked her back to the trailers.