Speaking of the waiter, he places our starters down in front of us. Freddie is having Milanese meatballs, served in a tomato sauce with Gran Moravia cheese. As the waiter places it down in front of him, his eyes light up.

‘This is actually the fourth time I’ve had these since I arrived,’ he tells me. ‘They’re just so good.’

They must be, if he’s so set in his ways with them. I wonder how long he’s been here, and why he decided to come to Valentine Island, of all places, all alone.

I’m just a little jealous of Freddie’s meatballs, until my Sicilian arancini are placed down in front of me. Hand-rolled risotto balls, made with mozzarella cheese and peas, coated in breadcrumbs, and served with a red pepper tapenade – they smell absolutely incredible. I can hardly wait for the waiter to leave before I am reaching for my fork.

‘At least we can talk while we do this,’ Freddie says.

‘That’s true,’ I agree, although I'm a lot more enthusiastic about the eating than I am the talking.

As Freddie tucks into his meatballs something occurs to me.

‘Are you Italian?’ I ask him.

‘Me?’ he replies. He seems a little confused by me asking. ‘Oh, no, you mean because of my surname? No, I’m not Italian. My real name is Freddie Wells.’

‘Freddie Wells sounds like an actor’s name,’ I say between eager mouthfuls.

‘It does,’ he replies. ‘Because it is – there is already a famous Freddie Wells. So, when it came to picking a new name, I decide to honour someone who had always believed in me, Miss Bianchi, my drama teacher.’

‘Wow, that’s really nice,’ I say.

‘Yeah, she was stoked when I told her. She’s always been really proud of me. She says I’m her finest work.’

‘Well, there’s no one bigger than you right now,’ I reply.

‘You didn’t even know who I was,’ he says with a wild laugh, one that shows off his perfect white teeth, his cute dimples, and the twinkle in his eyes.

‘I know… I’m so embarrassed.’

‘Don’t be,’ he insists. ‘I like it. Things have been so crazy… too crazy. No one knew who I was before the Eden movie and I knew that things would change, I just didn’t know how much. I can’t go anywhere. I can’t do anything. Things like going for coffee or to the store for toilet paper – I can’t do them, not without it making TMZ. Everyone wants to know what I’m wearing and who I’m dating, and I just couldn’t take it any more.’

‘See, being famous seems so attractive to plebs like me. But you make it sound awful…’

‘It isn’t awful,’ he says. ‘Or, at least, it isn’t always awful. It’s amazing, to finally have an acting role in a picture that people want to see. The money is great, and the special treatment isn’t unwelcome… but I just needed a break. The press constantly trying to find out who you are dating – when you aren’t dating anyone – gets pretty tiresome. They don’t think you’re single, they think you’re hiding something. It’s just too much sometimes, which is how I ended up here.’