‘There you go! That is the character. I realise you’ll probably want to think about it, honey, but we’re very pressed and I really do need your answer in the next half hour. And, also, Sally, do you have email?’

Sally reeled it off. She didn’t think she could take up this job offer, but at least she could write her refusal to Marina Martel in an email reply. That would be much easier.

But Marina was still talking. ‘Of course I know you must realise that someone dropped out at the last minute. Stupid woman took herself off skiing at the weekend and is now laid up in some French hospital with two broken legs, a broken nose and a black eye, meaning she can’t walk, and even if we tried some trickery – shooting her in a wheelchair – her face looks as though she’s been in a prize fight. And certainly won’t settle before we finish the shoot. Oh, and by the way, it’s only a week’s shoot. All along the French and Italian Riviera. You’ll to have to reshoot the shots she’s already done, which will set us back a bit. Obviously it’s too late to get someone out there from Stateside without losing another couple of days, and so, as you’re right there, I immediately thought of you. If you say yes, you start shooting tomorrow morning. We’ll put you up in a lovely hotel, of course, but if you prefer to stay at home, naturally we’ll provide a car and per diems in lieu. It’s full Equity, but the fee’s not great. I don’t know if you have an agent . . .’

Sally’s mind now sped through all her old contacts in the business, wondering if any of them might negotiate this contract for her. She was shocked to realise that by now all of her old agents would probably have retired or maybe have died.

‘But it’s all pretty straightforward SAG rules and so on, Sally, a standard contract . . .’

Sally was once more thinking it would not be right for her to walk out on the others at La Mosaïque just so that she could follow her own dream.

After all, she had William breathing down her neck.

But then again, would another chance like this ever come up in her lifetime? She was almost sixty-five, for heaven’s sake. Time was running out.

But when things were going so badly, to let the others down …

‘I’m afraid the fee isn’t much to write home about, Sally. We’d pay you in euros or pounds, or whatever you like, but I’m afraid I could only offer you twenty-five thousand dollars.’

Thirteen

THIRTEEN

Theresa woke to a bleep from her phone.

She grabbed it and peered at the tiny screen. It was exactly 6 a.m.