Marianne was also signalling at her. In actual words it would have been something like ‘shove off and stop queering my pitch,’ Sally realised, so she smiled and returned to her seat with the Markhams and Theresa. They were chatting merrily about British television of yesteryear.

‘Phoo and Eggy were telling me about when they first knew you.’

Oh God.

Sally could imagine.

Without thinking, she took a large swig of champagne and ferociously bit off the end of a breadstick dipped in tapenade.

‘I never realised you were held in such high esteem by everyone in the theatrical profession,’ Theresa continued. ‘Phoo has been telling me all about your wonderful interpretation of Natasha in The Three Sisters. I so wish I’d seen it.’

Sally took a deep breath and gaped at Theresa, then back at Phoo, who was gazing serenely into her champagne glass.

What on earth was going on?

‘Well, isn’t this nice?’ said Eggy, leaning back in the sofa and taking in the room with its boiserie and gold-framed paintings of kings of France. ‘What a lovely way to end a day’s work.’

‘Especially when we’ve got such a late call tom—’ Before Sally could finish her sentence Eggy’s foot lashed out under the table and kicked her ankle so hard she made an audible squeak.

‘Late-ish,’ he said sharply. ‘These days I count a nine a.m. as a lie-in, don’t you? So ten-thirty seems like heaven.’

Sally knew that tomorrow was scheduled as a night shoot.

And that their pick-up wasn’t due till 3 p.m.

Theresa was also making small movements, which caught her eye. When she turned to look she appeared to be making secret motions in the direction of Marianne.

Sally pulled up her sleeve and gave her own arm a sharp pinch.

No.

She was awake.

‘So have you been partners for years and years?’ Phoo leaned forward and picked up a handful of herb-roasted nuts.

‘No,’ Sally replied. ‘Must be around two or three years.’

Phoo nodded sagely.

‘That’s quite old to make such a sweeping change. Eggy and I have been together so long now we’re practically welded.’

‘Welded bliss,’ added Eggy, stretching out his arm and putting it round Phoo.

Theresa was lifting her eyebrows and pulling a face at Sally. She appeared to be saying, ‘Have it your way. I don’t mind playing along.’

Why was everything tonight like a long course in the art of mime?

Sally was at a loss. Had Theresa given Phoo the impression that they were lovers? What on earth was going on?

‘My friend Jean-Philippe may come along later.’ Sally was determined to get things straight. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of him all day, but he was out at sea delivering a yacht for a client in Genoa. Then he had to take the train home. All tunnels.’