‘Does there have to have been something?’ she asked defensively. Too defensively, she realized as Kit’s head – in her peripheral vision – tilted to the side interestedly. ‘Besides, that’s not how I’d describe what I do,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m just looking for good stories. Human interest features.’

‘Well, you choose wisely. You appear to have an unerring instinct for what people want to see. Fallen angels, flawed heroes, struggles back to redemption . . .’ Julian spoke almost as if Kit wasn’t sitting right there with them. ‘Do you enjoy it?’

‘I love it,’ she said simply. ‘I can’t believe I get paid to do it. Don’t tell my producer, but I’d do it for free.’

Julian laughed and pressed a finger interestedly to his lips. ‘Tell me why you love it so much.’

She thought for a moment. ‘There’s a moment in every project when . . . someone sees themselves truly. When they’ve come through a struggle and they . . . This sounds really pretentious but, you see them step into their power. In my Grenfell film, Bindi, this young mother, twenty-two years old, dared to apply for an Open University law degree so that she could help in the fight for their rights . . . We were with her the day she got the acceptance letter. It was amazing. After everything she’d been through, we saw the world open up for her.’ She inhaled. ‘I guess I’m saying I love those moments when “I can’t” becomes “I can”. When people defy their limits, and you see the surprise in their eyes that they could actually somehow be more.’

‘That’s what you’re aiming for with Kit?’

Clover looked straight at Julian. ‘No. Kit already knows what he can be.’

Julian leaned towards her, just a little. ‘So then . . .?’

Clover turned and held Kit’s stare as he glowered at her, daring her to say what she wanted from him. ‘In Kit’s case, it’s almost the opposite. When you already are more, where is there to go? What becomes of your humanity? The need to win comes at what cost? And are the sacrifices worth it? Because it seems to me that when we reach for the sun, we always get burned.’

‘Ah yes, the allegory of Icarus – when mortals play at being gods.’ Julian smiled, his gaze lifting over to Kit.

‘So you think people should settle for . . . mediocrity?’ Kit’s voice was low. Cutting.

Her eyes met his. ‘No. Not everyone, although I do think most people are happy with what mediocrity offers; it gets a bad press, if you ask me,’ she said evenly. ‘A bigger life doesn’t necessarily equate to a better life, but some people just seem to need more . . . intensity, feedback, whatever you want to call it.’

‘And which camp do you fall into? Or shall I take a wild guess?’