Not quite, I imagine. But who knows?

‘It’s probably best I don’t discuss the details yet,’ I comment delicately. ‘New contracts and all, you know how it is.’

‘I look forward to hearing more once you’re free to talk,’ Liz says. ‘It sounds intriguing.’

We order cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches. I agree to contact Liz when production resumes. With nothing signed yet, I should have agreed if.

8

Leaving Liz to traipse through the incessant rain, tourists and touts around Piccadilly Circus, I arrive at Harry Hipgrave’s doorway visibly frazzled. Faith is tucked neatly inside the entrance, dry as toast and immaculate.

‘Well, you look awful.’ Faith huddles me inside with a brief peck on my cheek. ‘Did you get any sleep?’

I admire Faith’s pea-green coat. The colour plays perfectly with the flicker of olive in her eyes.

‘Faith, why didn’t you call me when you heard from Harry?’

She takes my umbrella and gives it a good shake.

‘Darling, I tried calling you all morning. Your mobile was dead. Your landline was busy, then it rang out, over and over. Although, I’d given Harry your number, and he said he’d spoken with you. So… here I am.’

After the conversations with my mother and Harry, I’d unplugged the landline at the wall to get some peace. I don’t understand why my mobile reception is so erratic in my flat. Jordan reached me just fine this morning.

‘I’m sorry, darling. I’m so hung-over. My head hurts horribly. You look amazing, by the way. As always. Did you get back to sleep last night? I was ridiculously drunk…’

‘You were, it was funny, I’m not surprised your head hurts!’

‘Funny or annoying?’ I ask, concerned I know the answer.

‘A bit of both. But, yes, I got back to sleep. I’m only sorry I couldn’t join you. Sounds like you had a fun night?’

Faith and I were inseparable before I took up with Jordan. Out together all the time, having fun. We still speak daily on the phone. Some days, more than once. But we don’t see each other face-to-face as often any more. Not that Faith isn’t fully socially occupied without me. And then some. But any absence between us rests squarely on me.

‘Darling, I miss you,’ I blurt out, clasping my best friend in a big bear hug.

‘Don’t get soppy because you’re feeling sorry for yourself.’ Faith pushes me off her with affection. ‘Now, Gracie Louise Porter, what’s with this coat you’ve got on today?’