‘So, anyway, I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Janey, here . . .’

‘Judy.’

‘Judy! Yes, that’s right. Sorry about that.’ He banged his forehead. ‘Judy! Judy! Judy! Isn’t that a quote in some ancient, long-forgotten film? Anyway, as you gather, we’re picking up all the scenes we’d already shot with the queen of off-piste slalom, and we’ve a hell of a lot to cram into the scant hours of daylight, aujourd’hui, so “one-take wonders” are the order of the day, lady.’ Daniel raised his eyebrows. ‘I’ve gathered you’re an old pro at the game, so I’m sure you’ll be fine. I usually find veteran actresses very efficient.’ He ran his fingers through his hair and held a pose for a moment. Sally wondered if he was about to vogue down the steps. But instead he inspected his clipboard. ‘See you down on set, erm, Sally. We have a rather fancy bakery for you to enter, but I can’t attest to the public conveniences, and as for the door . . . Well, as Shakespeare once said: a door is a door is a door.’

If Marina Martel had chosen this man as director, Sally presumed that he had to be good at his job, even if his social skills had certainly not been nurtured in the Barbara Cartland charm school.

Daniel’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and answered.

‘Who?’

As the voice at the other end spoke, Daniel rolled his eyes in the direction of Judy and Sally and continued: ‘Not that old bag again. Doesn’t she understand English? The role is cast, cast, cast, and, no, I do not want to see either her CV or a show reel . . . Yes, I’m sure she knows quite a few important people in the business . . . No, no, no. Tell her under no circumstances should she fly out to the set to meet me.’ Resuming the conversation at the top of his voice, Daniel turned on his heels.

‘Now, Sally,’ said Judy as Daniel bounced away down the stairs, rocking the make-up wagon so that Sally’s seat felt as though it was on a trampoline, ‘before I start on the hair, I’m just going to try out a few wigs for scene 102.’

Sally sat back. She mustn’t let her nervousness get in the way of this opportunity. Nor must she become obsessed with the idea that she was totally out of touch with the business, just because she had been living in France for so long. She might not be so young any more, and could even qualify as a ‘veteran’ performer, as Daniel had so keenly reminded her, but Sally felt she was still au courant.

Judy advanced with an auburn fringed wig with flick-ups. She hovered behind Sally, then pressed the wig down on her head.

‘Oh. I say!’ Looking at herself in the mirror Sally laughed. ‘Very Mary Tyler Moore.’