He then turned on his heel as Simon Quinn scurried over to pick up one of the chairs. He was wearing a skin-tight black T-shirt with an Iron Maiden logo under a stylish leather waistcoat. Quinn picked up one of the chairs as Julia Summers came out carrying another one.

‘You can’t leave them in the corridor. He’s already having a fit about them. We need to put them up by my annex.’

‘There’s three girls already waiting in reception, Simon.’

‘Just let them wait there until I have the chairs sorted. The fashion editor from Teen magazine hasn’t arrived yet.’

Spencer offered to carry a chair and followed Julia along to the end of the corridor. Simon nodded his thanks.

‘Just go back to reception and keep the girls busy,’ he told Julia. ‘And make sure we’ve got all their portfolios and latest photographs.’

Spencer looked into Simon’s office. It had actually been created from part of the corridor, with floor-to-ceiling partitions that were covered in photographs of some stunning young-looking girls. His desk was stacked with so many files they looked in danger of collapsing. Simon was obviously in an anxious state as he ran his fingers through his spiked hair.

‘Do you need to talk to me? Because I think I’m the only person who hasn’t been interviewed. But now is not a good time. I’ve got to find a girl that looks fifteen as these teen magazines sell to twelve-year-olds. And they want them to look tanned as the shoot is supposed to be on a Mediterranean cruise.’

‘I’ve been told business isn’t that good.’

Simon pursed his lips. ‘Who told you that? I’m doing the best I can, but it’s like the blind leading the blind. Julia brings in all her posh friends who have never been on a catwalk in their life, never mind had a photo session. I’m finding it all very difficult.’

Spencer smiled. ‘Well, I’m sure if we need to talk to you we can come back at a more convenient time.’

As Spencer headed back down the corridor, a woman tottered past him in high wedge-heeled shoes. She was wearing a turban headscarf, dark glasses and a red jacket, which appeared to be covered in gold buttons. She left a waft of musky perfume as she brushed past him, pausing by Bergman’s open door.

‘Hello, darling, we must have lunch some time,’ she called out, before disappearing into Simon’s annex.