Her random choice of a bus took her to an area of London she had never been in before, and she walked aimlessly under a heavy sky. It was the first time she had failed at anything, or been refused something she passionately wanted. The first time she had been obliged to assess her own worth and true ability. In the dismal streets, with their cracked window panes and overflowing dustbins, she encountered faces that were slack with defeat, imprinted with the knowledge that their early dreams had been gobbled up in their daily fight for survival. Sitting on a bench beside a huddled old woman, Camilla recognised that her parents had tried to protect her, to guide her towards a life that would keep her safe. Even her mother had made an effort to reach out through the cocoon in which she chose to live, and to suggest some kind of secure framework. She found a public phone box and dialled her father’s number. The sound of George’s voice raised her spirits for the first time since the letter. They made a date for dinner at his club. In the bath she tried to form the sentences that would explain her exaggerated optimism about drama school. Her eyes looked flat with misery and shame as she applied her make-up. She lifted her shoulders with resignation, acknowledging that she had made a fool of herself and that there was no way out but to admit it. He would be the first one to know and she could, at least, practise her first lines of humility on a sympathetic audience.

‘I’m so sorry. I know how disappointed you must be.’ George reached for his daughter’s hand across the table. ‘But you can apply to other schools, you know. I think your worst mistake was setting your sights on one place only.’

But Camilla shook her head, looking down at her plate to hide unshed tears, grateful that he had not questioned her too closely, or chided her for her misplaced confidence.

‘Everybody goes through this sort of thing.’ He looked at her gravely. ‘If you still plan to pursue an acting career I’m afraid you’ve got to learn to love rejection. What does this tutor you told me about have to say? The one who was so certain you’d get in.’

‘I made him up,’ she said, sick with shame.