‘So, anyway, I undressed and lay, face down, on the bed. She knelt behind me, and I really thought she was going to give my shoulders a nice rub. But she tied my wrists. I tried to struggle but, believe me, that is one strong woman.’

Sally knew this, but now was not the moment to explain why.

‘Then, once I was tied, she calmly left the room, taking all my clothing with her, and told the hotel desk that if they heard shouting coming from the room, it was just me practising my lines.’

Bloody Carol! Since when did she become the avenging angel?

Sophie emerged from the rows of costumes at the back of the wardrobe wagon door. ‘Who’s first? Sally?’

‘Let Eggy go first.’ Sally stood outside, making the most of the warm air blowing from the wardrobe caravan’s fan heater.

‘Don’t make a fuss, will you?’ called Eggy through the billowing fabric which covered the door. ‘I asked for it, really.’

Sally heard Eggy sigh. ‘I’m just a silly old fool.’

Sophie asked him: ‘Where is the top hat?’

Before he could reply Sally called out. ‘Ruined, I’m afraid, Sophie. We had to use it to bail out the boat when we were inundated.’

‘I made such a fool of myself, over and over, today, didn’t I?’

Sally remained silent.

‘I am such a stereotypical Englishman,’ he said. ‘It’s too embarrassing.’

‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘As you know, I love Marmite, I can’t live without my marmalade, or a nice cup of tea. But I am English, Sally, and you know it is every Englishman’s duty to be seasick.’

The Third Assistant came up to Sally. ‘While you’re waiting, why not get your make-up off? It’s very warm in the wagon.’

Sally trudged up the hill.

Daniel, phone stuck to his ear as normal, was lurking near the make-up van door.

‘Sally!’ He put the phone away so quickly that Sally wondered if there had been anyone on the line at all. ‘I just have to reiterate how sorry we are and . . . if there’s anything . . .’

Same old claptrap.

She wondered if she asked for a Steinway grand piano, would he come up with it? Actually she felt like slapping his face, but instead she turned and said, ‘Thank you, Daniel, I’d like a whisky, please. Laphroaig, one ice cube.’

‘Right. Whisky. Laphroaig. Fine. I’m on it.’ Two steps of darting forward, then Daniel stopped in his tracks.

Sally knew there would be a catch, even to this simple request.

Suddenly Daniel went into something like a Uriah Heep-type grovelling bow, and his voice took on an irritating unctuous quality. ‘We are so flattered . . .’

Sally looked up to see what or whom had so vividly caught his attention.