I mean, OK, I know it’s not that likely. But I do have quite good cheekbones, and everything’s different when you look at it through a camera and—

‘Bex!’ Suze prods me. ‘Dino’s calling you!’

I hurry over to Dino and look expectantly at him, hoping he might say something like, ‘I’d like to audition you for the small part of Pirate Princess.’

‘OK, you. Cake-eater girl.’ He looks up from a list.

Cake-eater girl?

‘I’m called Becky,’ I tell him.

‘Nice.’ He’s clearly not listening. ‘Now, I’m placing you where Ant can’t see you. We don’t want him wound up any further. You’ll be polishing Gwennie’s shoes with this rag, and you stay in this position the whole scene. Keep your face down, away from the camera. Got it? Away from the camera.’ He turns away, summoning the next girl and I stare at him, crestfallen.

Away from the camera? But no one will see me. What about my family? I want to wail. How will they know it’s me?

I feel totally crushed as I get into position, grovelling on the floor and clutching a manky old rag. This isn’t what I imagined at all. A girl who looks a bit like April Tremont has sat down on the chair and shoots me an uninterested glance. I guess she’s the stand-in.

‘People!’ Dino is clapping his hands. ‘A little background to the scene we’ll be playing. The pirates’ womenfolk are preparing for the marriage ceremony. Gwennie, played by April Tremont …’ There’s a burst of applause from some of the extras, and Dino smiles in acknowledgement. ‘Gwennie is being given to the pirate bandit, Eduardo, played by Curt Millson. However, she’s in love with the rival pirate Captain Arthur, aka captain of the Black Flag, and in this scene we’ll see this fact being discovered by Eduardo.’

‘Hi,’ I say miserably to the stand-in. ‘I have to polish your shoes.’

‘Fine.’ She lifts up her skirt and I rub her shoe dispiritedly.

‘OK, we’re going to rehearse!’ comes Dino’s voice. ‘Action!’

‘Marriage to Eduardo,’ says the stand-in, in a monotone. ‘Never while I’m alive.’ She takes out a scarf and fondles it. ‘Oh, Arthur.’

‘Background actors,’ instructs Dino. ‘I want you to look at the scarf. You’re interested in it.’

Obediently I crick my head to look at the scarf, but Dino immediately says, ‘Not you, cake-eater girl.’

Great. Everyone else gets to look at the scarf while I get to grovel on the floorboards. The door swings open with a creak and I hear the tramp of heavy boots.

‘What is that pretty thing?’ comes a deep, masculine voice. ‘Show me.’

‘Never!’ says the stand-in.

Then there’s some sort of tussle, but I can’t see because I don’t dare lift my head. This is so frustrating. I’m longing to see what it’s all about, but I can’t see a bloody thing, stuck down here. I’ll never get to do my twitch, let alone say, ‘’Tis true, cap’n.’ It’s so depressing.