‘I’ll see you at the FilmFour meeting next week,’ she says. ‘Yes, it’s very exciting. If we can get them on side we could be shooting this side of Christmas.’ Her fists clench and her thoughts turn to Medea. The call ends.

She can feel Maisie’s eyes on the back of her head.

‘You sounded pretty worked up,’ her daughter says.

‘I am. It’s cruel, lobbing accusations at someone without proof.’

‘Yeah …’

‘What?’

‘Like … isn’t there no smoke without a fire?’

‘Such overused words. Why bother with the justice system then? What, we can just throw people into jail on the say-so of their pissed-off neighbours or vengeful exes? I know, what about if someone said, I saw Maisie kill someone. Or maybe someone who looked a bit like Maisie. She was tall anyway. Off you go then, Maisie. See you in twenty years. Is that enough smoke?’

Maisie looks a little shocked. Says quietly, ‘So why would the actress make something like that up?’

‘We have no idea what she thinks! She hasn’t said a word to anyone. It’s her moon-faced stupid twat friend who’s been ruining lives so he can get his fifteen seconds of fame.’

‘It’s fifteen minutes of fame.’

‘Whatever.’

‘Who were you talking to just now?’

‘Oh. The, um. The director.’ A flash of something catches her eye. ‘What are those on your feet?’

‘Nike Volt Utility Trainers?’ Maisie replies sheepishly.

‘I know that,’ she snaps. ‘Where did you get them from?’

‘Uh … Dad bought them for me?’

‘They were supposed to be a reward for working hard.’

‘He gave them to me as an early birthday present this morning because he said I was working hard already.’

‘He shouldn’t have done that.’ Becky shouts. She wanted to buy her daughter those trainers. She wanted her daughter to learn the value of hard work. She didn’t want to feel so undermined. And now all these questions Maisie has for her.

Becky looks up and sees the surprise, more a low level of fear, in her daughter’s eyes and pulls herself up. She shouldn’t be punishing Maisie for Adam’s actions, or for asking questions. None of it is her fault.

She promises herself she’ll bring up the trainers with Adam. At the right time, she will.

After a pause Maisie says, ‘Is she worried about it?’

‘Is who worried about what?’ Becky snaps again, unable to help herself.

‘The director,’ Maisie says quietly.

‘Everyone’s worried about it. If Sharon or Emilia walk off, we don’t have a film. And after that it’s a film that anyone with decency wouldn’t touch with a bargepole. And then you don’t ever have a film again. And it’s years of my life down the plughole. And I’ll probably get fired as well. So, yes, I’m a bit worried.’

Maisie nods slowly. ‘Amber is obviously a nutter.’