Duke takes a moment to breathe deeply. He knows the saying about there being years for questions and years for answers, meaning there are times when we have to figure out who we are in this world and other times we get to enjoy it. But for Duke, this whole winter has been a time of growth so rapid and intense that it’s actually painful. He doesn’t know if he can take much more – even the Golden Globe nomination feels like too much. It’s like there’s no room in his brain for any other surprises, even a good one.

But the way Evie was before Clive fell, looking at him with those massive freaking eyes, her nose pink from the cold, like she means it, like she really did want him to kiss her, wasn’t for the camera. How is he supposed to know the difference between reality and make-believe when she looks at him like that? And how can a person look like that if their feelings are going to be temporary? It doesn’t make sense to him. Either she wants this, or she doesn’t. There is no in between. Not with burning, aching stares like that.

‘Hey, Duke,’ a voice says, and it’s Katerina, the DP. She’s holding two paper cups with steam escaping through the lid. They’re working late, Clive’s tumble pushing things back. ‘Tea? Best way to stay warm is not to get cold, after all.’

‘Yeah,’ Duke says, stretching out a hand to take one. ‘That’s great, thanks, Katerina.’

‘You’re so welcome,’ she says, smiling, and Duke is surprised when she doesn’t walk away. He braces himself for her wanting a favour. He doesn’t mean to play the big-star card, but that’s typically what happens when somebody lingers around him on set towards the end of a shoot, like if they don’t get the photo for their sister, or video for their son or whatever, they’re going to miss their chance. How is he supposed to refrain from feeling sorry for himself when literally, even in the one moment he steals away, somebody else finds him, and asks something from him yet again?