The practical side of her recognised that an acting career might bring periods without work. Resting, everyone called it. It would be better to fill in as a model, than to work in some grubby café as a waitress. She had already been recalled for a second audition at the drama school, and she was certain that she had made a good impression. An acceptance letter would come soon. In the meantime, modelling would be a useful sideline, and it wouldn’t matter if she was not successful at it. She was nervous, however, when she arrived at Ricky Lane’s studio. The room was cold and ugly and smelled of stale cigarettes. Her body felt wooden as she turned towards the glare of the lights and the camera. But as he called out to her from behind his tripod, she began to understand his requirements. He had loud music on the record player, and she immersed herself gradually in its rhythm, mouthing the words of the song as she turned and posed and smiled and pouted, moving her head so that her hair swung out in a halo around her face. She could tell that he was pleased as he came towards her with the camera, tilting it from side to side, clicking faster, his voice rising in excitement.

‘Blimey! You’re a natural. I knew it! I bloody knew it! We’re going to do great things together, darlin’ – mark my words. Now turn back to me. Away again. Take down that strap and look over your shoulder like you want to bring me on. Yeah – this is it, Princess Camilla. This is it!’

But several weeks went by after the session and she heard nothing from him. As Christmas approached, she was filled with a terrible loneliness and dejection that she could not overcome. She posted cards and presents to Hannah and Sarah, and wondered when she might see them again. If ever. On weekends she chose to spend her time alone, lying in bed with the curtains drawn, blocking out the dismal light that made her long for the wide, sunlit plains and warm seas of her childhood. She began to enjoy her own melancholy, sinking deeper into sadness and lethargy. Marina knocked on her bedroom door with proposals for a shopping spree or lunch. Her father suggested a weekend visit to Scotland or Paris. But nothing appealed to Camilla, and she was approaching despair when the phone call came from Sarah. Betty and Raphael Mackay were in Ireland on leave, and they had rented a house in the Wicklow Mountains. Would Camilla like to come for Christmas? Her stupor was replaced by a bubbling energy, and she rushed out to the travel agent, and to shop for more presents.