‘Briefing in two!’ yelled an overly enthusiastic bloke towards the front. ‘Let’s get moving, people!’

I heaved myself up and followed everyone else off the bus, trying to appear as if I knew exactly what I was doing. It didn’t last long. The second I stepped outside and got a good look around the set, all my attempts at looking nonchalant fell by the wayside.

People were scurrying about everywhere, some carrying equipment, others clipboards. There had to be at least forty of them, and every single one was busy. From almost every angle, I could see the trademarked Enchantment signs emblazoned across lorries and cars and strung up between trees. I stood in the centre of it all, gawking like an idiot with my mouth hanging open.

‘The main quad!’ the man from the bus shouted. ‘Now!’

All at once, everyone seemed to stop what they were doing and head off. There were some grumbles; it appeared I wasn’t the only one who didn’t appreciate early rising. I kept hoping someone would tell me where I could find the industrial-strength coffee; instead we were ushered forward where an elaborate stage was already set up.

A harried-looking woman clambered up with the aid of a few of the others before grabbing hold of a bullhorn and facing all of us. ‘Good morning!’ she bellowed. ‘And welcome to the very first day of filming for Enchantment: Highlander edition!’

If she’d been expecting a raucous response, she was sorely mistaken. There was some ragged applause but no one appeared particularly thrilled by her words. Unlike me: I whooped loudly, ignoring the frowns I received from the people around me. There were a few eye-rolls as well but I smiled happily. This was brilliant. It took a lot to get me to smile before 11am but being on set for Enchantment was definitely enough.

Someone from the side of the stage called up to the woman. She nodded and yelled into the bullhorn again. ‘Now for our esteemed director and man of the hour, Morris Armstrong!’

This time, the applause was slightly more enthusiastic. For some reason, however, I still got the impression that it was because of what was expected rather than out of any real desire to cheer on the supposed captain of the most popular show on television.

I watched with interest as a large man leapt onto the stage. With his back to the crowd, he murmured something to the woman. From behind me, I heard someone else mutter, ‘Apparently he’s in a bad mood. He was down south completing some last-minute budget negotiations and couldn’t get first-class tickets for the train yesterday, so he had to join the rest of the cattle instead.’

There was a choked snigger. A bout of snaking dread assailed me. Uh-oh. Then, when Morris Armstrong turned round to face us, I bit my lip and raised my eyes to the heavens. Of course, the new director was the man who’d sat beside me on the train and who I’d managed to chase away with my supposed bad smell. Not only had I missed the perfect opportunity to find out more about what was going on, I’d made him think I was walking petri dish that should be avoided at all costs.