‘Do they want me to read?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Read for the director first and then, if they like that, a meeting with Mr Rory MacMillan himself,’ replied Julian. ‘And as you already know him, that should be a breeze.’

Was it Evelyn’s imagination, or could she detect something in his tone that suggested he was impressed? It was hard to tell, but Rory MacMillan was a big name. Even Julian, with his ‘I’ve seen it all before, darling’ attitude might be a little bit excited by the opportunity that had presented itself to her. She wondered about confessing to him that she didn’t really ‘know’ Rory MacMillan; it had been one conversation at a party, but she decided against. It would do her no harm to let Julian think the acquaintance went deeper than that.

‘They’re serious, then? About me, I mean,’ Evelyn asked, hardly daring to believe it. When she’d gone for other parts, she had only ever seen the casting director, never the producer, but then she had never been up for something as big as this before.

‘It seems so,’ Julian drawled. ‘And so they should be. This is well within your range. They’d be mad to miss you.’

Despite his optimism, Evelyn tried to keep a lid on her excitement. This still felt like a lot of hoops to jump through.

‘And is there anything else in the pipeline for me?’ she asked hopefully, thinking of her bare kitchen cupboards and the freezing cold flat.

‘Not just at the mo, darling. These perishing strikes are putting the wind up everyone. People are nervous about committing to things just now whilst the country is going to hell in a handcart, but don’t you worry. If you manage to bag this one, then you won’t have time for anything else.’

Evelyn bit her lip. It was a ten-part series with the chance of a second if things went well. A part like this would be the making of her.

6

The audition was at the film studios in Wembley. Evelyn had been once before, which reduced her nerves just a little, and she tried to look confident as she marched up the drive to the reception desk. She wondered how many other hopefuls would be there. She assumed dozens, possibly even hundreds of people, all as desperate as she was to get the part, but as she drew closer there were only a handful of other actresses waiting. She checked her watch and then the date, but she had both things correct. Her heart, already pumping hard, started to work a little harder still. Were they only considering so few people? Maybe she was in with a real chance.

Her initial anxiety switched to excitement. This was what she did. She performed. And it didn’t matter what it was or who to. When the time to shine arrived, Evelyn Mountcastle shone. She straightened her skirt (dark, pencil, worn to give the subliminal impression of a policewoman), took a deep breath and stepped into the reception. Every pair of eyes turned to look at her. Unperturbed, Evelyn walked as confidently as she could to the desk.