And though Evie had deferred her university studies after two years so she could concentrate on writing a romantic-comedy screenplay (which all these years later was still very much a work in progress), she and Ben had set up a podcast for film and food lovers they’d called ‘Pasta La Vista’. Evie was grateful they had, as she suspected that without the podcast, she and Ben would have drifted further apart than they had without the pull of daily lectures and their shared dream of working in film and TV.

Evie checked Google Maps on her phone again to confirm they were in the right place. ‘This has to be it.’

Ben reluctantly pressed the gold doorbell hanging lopsidedly by a plaque engraved in fluid cursive with the word ‘Seer’.

Evie had discovered Maximilian—clairvoyant and medium to the rich and famous—during what had recently become her hourly Hugo Hearst social media check-in. According to Hugo’s Instagram feed, last Wednesday at exactly 12.39pm he’d visited this mononymous psychic. Having pored over so many interviews with Hugo (she’d read them all), Evie had been surprised to read this: Hugo didn’t seem like a spiritual person at all. Intrigued, she’d decided to find out for herself what had motivated him to visit a medium.

When Evie had suggested to Ben that Maximilian would be a good person to interview for their podcast (without explaining the particulars of why she was so keen to do so), Ben had been hesitant. Maximilian wasn’t exactly their typical guest, and Ben had thought it was unlikely he would have any ground-breaking insights into film. ‘Besides, why doesn’t he have a last name? Who does he think he is, the Madonna of the afterlife?’ he had asked dubiously. But Evie had assured Ben that since so many film and TV stars consulted Maximilian, he was totally eligible and, what’s more, he might provide the viral moment they needed to reach beyond the indie film community. Ben had eventually agreed, though it was clear he remained doubtful.

A buzzer sounded to let them in and Evie pushed on the creaky door. Inside, the narrow hallway was lined with peeling wallpaper and had worn, yellowing parquetry floors. They made their way up some tired-looking stairs that heaved with each step, as if they were intensely bothered by the inconvenience of human feet.

On the second floor, Evie knocked gently on the door. There was an almighty thud from inside, then a loud screech and the sound of slippered feet coming towards them. After much chain jangling, the door opened a peep, and two large, heavily made-up eyes peered out.

‘Ms Berry?’

‘Yes, it’s Evie, we spoke on the phone, and this is my co—’

Evie’s introduction was cut short by the man reaching a long, bony hand through the crack in the door and gesturing for them to come in.