Siobhan tucks the borders of her script outline neatly behind her notepad but recovers quickly, saying, ‘Did you manage to get to the Deal cottage this weekend?’ because this is always her strategy for deflecting the energy from a conversation that has caused him stress, like telling a child to think of nice things like beaches and sweets before they go to sleep at night.

Matthew is studying something intensely on his phone, glasses balanced at the end of his nose. He doesn’t reply immediately but when he does he says, ‘Yes. The weather was lovely. The jasmine is out.’

His gaze is nowhere near Becky. It is dissociated, disinterested, so far from her that she might not be there at all …

He looks up at her suddenly, as if he’s sensed the beam of her thoughts on him – his brow still furrowed, his eyes narrowed. He takes a deep breath and reorientates himself by saying, ‘Tux?’

‘Waiting for you at the hotel,’ Becky says, laying down the order confirmation sheet in front of him.

‘Accreditation passes?’

‘Waiting for you at the hotel,’ says Siobhan.

‘Good,’ he says. ‘Becky, have you got yours? You’ll need them for all screenings and parties.’

‘Yes,’ says Becky, looking away from Siobhan instinctively, feeling uncomfortable that she is the one who gets to go to the ball.

‘Have you confirmed all our meetings with the actors tomorrow? You should get Jenifer Palmer and Sarah Pastor on the list. Both look the part.’

‘Yes, all set.’

‘On which note,’ says Siobhan, more quietly than usual, ‘I just wondered whether you’d had a chance to look at my film idea so you can, I don’t know, maybe give it to someone you know who might be visiting the festival and might sort of like it?’

‘It’s interesting,’ he says, which Becky knows means it’s not interesting enough, but before the conversation can progress further his mobile rings and without looking at either of them he waves them out of the office like he is directing traffic. He waits for them to step outside before he answers.

Becky is the last to leave. She hears him say, ‘Yes, David.’

The two wait outside. Siobhan sat at her desk, Becky perched on the edge, waiting to be called back in.

‘Fuck, he’s in such a bad mood.’ The door buzzes and Siobhan picks up on speaker, ‘Bonjour?’

‘Siobhan, it’s Antonia, can you let me in?’

‘Er, sure.’ Siobhan presses the buzzer and looks at Becky, shrugging.