‘I think there’s more to it.’

‘Think what you like, it’s still going to be the murderous mum movie. Punters think in single sentences, believe me.’

Becky is beginning to find him a little patronizing. She wants to say, Don’t tell me how the punters think. She wants to say that she actually works in the industry: unlike him who simply skirts around its edges, writing about it. But she knows better than to get him off-side, he might review Medea one day, and so instead she says: ‘James Cameron’s single sentence: Romeo and Juliet on a sinking boat.’

‘A billion dollars later …’ He laughs.

‘Time-travelling robot tries to kill someone.’ She’s good at this game.

He smiles, impressed. ‘So what’s your Medea sentence if it isn’t Mum murders her kids?’

‘Woman struggles with toxic controlling masculinity and discovers that her power lies in being overlooked and underestimated. But the journey breaks her.’

‘Maybe don’t put that on the poster.’

She laughs.

‘You’ve got Matthew behind it,’ continues Alex. ‘That’s definitely something to put on the poster: From the guy who’s made a bunch of things you liked. Goes a long way.’

‘He’s only exec’ing this one.’

Such vanity! Alex spots it in an instant. She sees it in the smirk he can’t quite hide in time.

‘He’s obviously fond of you.’

He passes her a drink from a tray that is going round and she notices the tan skin covered in a soft down of sun-bleached hair, the curve his forearm makes. She’s seen that curve before, the unmistakable shape of a man who works out, a man who likes to possess strength. She thinks of Scott and his trips to the gym and wonders how many more men with bleached hair and vanity running through their honed muscles she can really take.

She puts her lips to the rim of a heavy-bottomed glass and takes a sip, would consider taking a sip or two more – how nice to drink a whole drink right now, just the one, just enough bitter gin and tonic to take the edge off her sweltering thoughts – but the liquid is sweet and bubbly and she hates it. Sweet and fizzy and alcoholic, a curious cocktail of childhood and adulthood, neither one nor the other, a confusion of the two. She hates it like she hates the alcohol tang of aftershave.

Anyway, she must remain alert and in control and alcohol won’t help that. She glances over at Matthew, willing him to end his call and return to her and get this transaction back on track.

‘How long have you known Matthew?’ she asks Alex, trying to re-anchor herself. He doesn’t bite.

‘Don’t you think killing your children is quite an extreme form of revenge? I’m just interested in how you’ll make an audience not hate her.’