‘Totally real. For a new doctor in Holby City. I’ve got the script somewhere.’

‘And the play you’re doing, your big part – is that real? Or are you just a spear-carrier?’

He was starting to look cross now. ‘No, I’m not. I’m playing Orsino. Of course it’s bloody real.’ He dug around for something in his bag. ‘God, what do you take me for, Maggie?’

He found what he was looking for – a batch of publicity shots and a well-thumbed script. I peered at the photos: the top one was Seb dressed in a ruffled white shirt and breeches, long riding-boots to the knee, looking very dashing; in the next he was a punk; then a British soldier with a rifle. ‘That was my mum’s favourite. That’s Love All.’ He pointed to the last one, pushing his hair back again distractedly. ‘It was taken just before she died.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said mechanically. ‘I’m sure she was very proud. You look very handsome.’

‘She thought so, bless her.’ He stood. ‘You look knackered, babe. Give me a call when you’re ready, okay?’

‘Okay. Thanks, Seb.’

He moved towards the door, then he turned round slowly. ‘We’re having a cast party tomorrow to celebrate going up. I did – I really wanted you to come.’

‘Wanted?’

‘Well, it’s just – I mean, after this – perhaps you don’t want to.’

I contemplated my glass like the answer to all my problems might lie in the dregs. ‘I’m sorry, Seb. I’d love to come normally. It’s just – I’m just not in a very good place right now,’ I said honestly. ‘Everything I thought I knew seems not to be true right now.’

‘Really?’ He looked perplexed. ‘That bad?’

‘You know I thought they’d caught the bloke who’s been doing all this crap to me, Joseph Blake.’

‘I know, thank God. They have, haven’t they?’

I felt the wall of panic rise in me again. ‘But it’s not Blake. It can’t be. I just got more of those hideous flowers, and it was while he was locked up. Oh God.’ I put my head in my hands. ‘I was so bloody relieved it was over, and now it looks like it’s not. And I’m so worried about Digby. He’s never run off before.’

Seb came towards me and took the glass out of my hand, setting it down on the little walnut table beside me. ‘Maggie,’ he said softly. ‘I’m here for you.’

‘Thank you.’ I couldn’t look at him.

‘I know you’re cross, but I didn’t lie. And we’re good together, aren’t we?’