‘You too,’ she says, smiling, and when she’s gone Duke considers calling down to Evie’s room, but it’s still early and he doesn’t want to wake her. It’s the first time he’s thought of anything other than the movie all night. And this needs his focus: he can’t blow it. Not for his sake, nor for Daphne’s. Between the directing, now, which will carry on into the new year with post-production, even after they’ve done filming, with edits and sound engineering and everything it entails, and then his mother, who is still here …

Ah.

She texted him, and he hasn’t replied.

He doesn’t know what he wants to say. Evie gave clever, sound advice, but he knows that to explain everything he wants to explain to his mum, he needs emotional bandwidth – not to get all ‘therapy speak’. But he’s going to cry, at the end of the day, because that’s what he does. He’s a crier. And then he’s going to have to pick a coping mechanism, and since working with Phoebe he’s been able to manage his undereating and overexercising, and luckily precisely because of his mother he’s seldom had more than two drinks a night and doesn’t ever do drugs.

After a shower and a change of clothes, Duke calls his mother at her hotel.

‘Mum,’ he says, when she answers. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ve been working all night. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging.’

‘No, no,’ his mother insists. ‘I know you’re working, pet. It’s fine. We’ve been exploring and seeing the sights.’

‘Okay,’ he says, and there’s a pause. ‘I’m on set all day today, too,’ he tells her. ‘We’re taking over some directing duties, actually, so there’s loads that needs to be done.’

‘That’s nice, love. Congratulations.’

Duke isn’t sure she means it. There’s something hollow about the supposed compliment.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks her.

‘Yes, yes,’ she says. ‘I am. I’m just wondering …’

And there it is. Duke can feel the blow before she issues it.

‘I think we should probably go home. You’re busy, and I’ve said my piece …’

Duke doesn’t say anything. She wants to go home again? It’s been two days.

‘Right,’ Duke says, his heart thumping like he’s being kicked from the inside. ‘Well, that’s up to you, isn’t it.’

He’s met with silence.

‘Mum?’ he pushes. Suddenly, he realises that she’s crying. ‘Mum,’ he repeats, firmer this time.

‘I just thought this would be different,’ she says, her voice wobbling. ‘It’s my fault. I expected too much. Roger says he hates to see me like this, waiting by the phone for you.’