Briony could hear the new band through the walls of her office. The Velvetones were good, but they weren’t Kerry. Bessie Knight, the singer, had a good voice, but it was Kerry people came to see. She sipped at a glass of brandy and lit herself a cigarette, dispensing with the holder while she was alone. She heard a small tap on her office door and bellowed: ‘Come in.’

Jonathan la Billière walked into the office with a wide beaming smile on his face.

‘Someone upset you, Briony?’ His thick eyebrows rose quizzically and she smiled.

‘I’m feeling a bit fragile to say the least.’

Jonathan sat on a chair and, crossing his legs, said jocularly, ‘Drinking alone? Shouting? All the symptoms of an old maid, my dear. Be careful, you have been warned!’

Briony laughed gently.

‘What can I do for you?’

‘I want to ask a favour actually. We’re filming again in two weeks. Now I have a little girl in mind to star with me, but Rupert’s not too happy about her. He has another one lined up and quite frankly, Briony, I couldn’t fancy her baked, fried or boiled! In fact, I want to concentrate more on a real acting career, you know. I’ve been asking around and I think I may be in line for a part. But it’s Rupert ...’

His voice trailed off and Briony nodded at him, and smiled.

‘He’s mad about you, Jonathan, you knew that at the start. What you’re saying is, now you have someone else who can help you, you want me to give Rupert the bad news. Am I right?’

He had the grace to look a little ashamed.

‘Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that ...’

‘Of course you wouldn’t. But I would, because I always say what I mean.’

Jonathan squirmed in his chair.

‘Look, Briony, the deal was a couple of art pictures then he’d consider me for something serious. And that isn’t happening. Now you hold all the cards in your hand, he’ll listen to you. In fact, you’re the only person he will listen to, period. I deserve a break ... just one break. I can act, I’m good. And I look good on film. I don’t want to spend my life at Rupert’s beck and call.’

Briony stubbed out her cigarette.

‘Can I ask you something?’

Jonathan spread his arms.

‘Of course, anything you like.’

Briony took a deep breath. ‘Are you really the son of an impoverished vicar? Only, now and again you sound very South London to me.’

Jonathan looked at her for a second, his piercing blue eyes boring into her deep green ones, then he laughed.

‘How long ago did you suss me out?’ He’d dropped the affected accent slightly and Briony warmed to him then.