They followed his retreating back into a small, windowless room that smelled distinctly of incense with undertones of mould. The room’s navy walls were covered with elaborate gilded mirrors and antique portraits of unsmiling aristocrats. The carpet was blood-red, dotted with threadbare patches.

‘Come, come, sit,’ said Maximilian, gesturing impatiently towards a round table illuminated by a dusty chandelier and surrounded by four shabby velvet stools. He was wearing a long, purple satin robe with a matching purple feather poking out of his grey topknot.

Sitting down, Evie and Ben expected Maximilian to join them. But instead he swirled around dramatically, held the tips of his fingers to his forehead and took long, exaggerated breaths in and out.

Stifling a laugh, Evie removed their recording equipment from her backpack and set it up on the table. Ben took three thermos containers of pesto penne out of the insulated bag they’d invested in for their on-the-road interviews. Evie tapped the microphone in front of Ben a couple of times to test the sound then gave him the nod to signal that they were ready.

Evie cleared her throat, looking nervously at the now-swaying medium. The purple feather in his hair quivered as he moved back and forward.

With a swish of his robe, Maximilian turned around, his eyeliner-rimmed eyes wide as he muttered to some unknown presence, ‘Yes, yes, I understand. No need to elaborate. It’s great material.’

Evie and Ben looked at him expectantly, but he strode away to the kitchen, still murmuring into the air.

After several awkward minutes, he returned with a flowery teapot, which he placed on the table along with three porcelain cups. ‘I have to go now,’ he said, presumably addressing his invisible companion.

Evie leaned forward eagerly. ‘Can you tell our listeners who you’ve been convening with?’ she asked.

‘Oh, just some unfinished business with Robin.’

‘Robin?’

‘Williams. He just won’t let up with the jokes. It’s joke, joke, joke, all day, every day,’ Maximilian replied, looking nonplussed.

Evie stole a glance at Ben, his mouth agape as he stared at Maximilian.

‘Well, let’s get on with it, shall we? I have my next appointment in an hour,’ Maximilian said.

Evie opened the three pasta containers, releasing the rich aroma of garlic and parmesan. Then she shuffled through her notes, giving Ben stern, do-not-laugh looks as he opened a separate container and dabbed some Napoli sauce on top of each serving.

‘Welcome to Pasta La Vista, your favourite film podcast, hosted by aspiring screenwriter, me, Evie Berry, and award-winning documentary filmmaker, Ben Feldman,’ Evie began. ‘As always, today we’ll discuss the latest and most topical cinema news over a bowl of pasta.’

‘And for today’s dish I’ve made a delicious pesto penne topped by a dab of Napoli to shake things up,’ said Ben. ‘So we’re calling this episode, “The Pesto is Yet to Come”.’