‘Doesn’t that just make people think about the story all over again?’

‘Yes, you don’t want to get it wrong. But if you do it right, it shows you’re confident enough about it to engage with empathy. The message is, you had a brush with a mentally ill actress who really needed help more than anything, and you’ve reflected, and the experience has changed you and you’d like to do something to help. That looks like strength and compassion. The guys at Ice will get a proper plan written up and costed.’

‘How much will it cost you?’

‘Personally? Probably quarter of a million or so. Depends what we do, but I told them to look at that budget range.’

‘Good to get people talking about stuff. Issues that need to change. Doing good. I guess that’s the upside of what you’re going through.’ She wipes at her damp forehead with the back of her hand.

‘I agree. It’ll be money well-spent. Just not under the kind of circumstances I’d have wished for.’

They sit in silence for a while and she wonders whether this is the moment to say something …

‘You were saying about Emilia?’ he says.

‘Yes. I spoke to Sam. I think if the story dies down and Sharon stays on board then we’ll get through it with Emilia still up for it.’

‘I’ve had some very special conversations with Sharon’s agent,’ laughs Matthew wryly. ‘Let’s just say that Sharon’s going to get a much better deal than I’d have signed a month ago.’

‘So Sharon’s definitely staying on?’

‘Of course she is. It’s a proper A-list rising star, an Oscar-bait script, and a budget where she can afford a real crew and all those cranes that directors dream about. It’s all that, versus a malicious rumour that’s going to be forgotten by the time she’s in cinemas. She’s not stupid.’

Matthew walks toward a wooden cabinet in the corner of the room, a brass key sticking out of its keyhole. He takes out two tumblers – Drink Me, thinks Becky – their surfaces shining and jagged like they have been overlaid with the smashed cubes of car window glass. He sloshes whisky into both and hands one to Becky.

‘Ice?’

‘No thanks.’

‘Well then, here’s to you. Your passion for your project. And on a personal note, your loyalty to me continues to move me deeply.’

She turns the words passion and loyalty around in her head as she allows the whisky to touch her lips but go no further. She won’t ever make that mistake again. Anyway, she hates whisky and its peaty, arrogant smell. It reminds her of her father. It’s the smell of verdicts passed and judgements given. An airless drink that listens only to the sound of its own voice.