‘Himself?’ Pauline couldn’t have looked more shocked. ‘Himself?’ she repeated slowly. ‘But he’s only young.’

‘He has no family I think. I expect he was just checking.’

‘How strange,’ said Pauline. ‘I mean – thinking of being old like that when he’s still young.’

Mrs Beale, who had met people of all ages who were frightened of old age and loneliness, only smiled.

‘Would you like a cup of tea? Your father’s wake? I’ll put a shot of whisky in ours, in his memory.’

‘Thank you,’ said Pauline and they walked in where the red carpet welcomed them and the large picture of Beerbohm Tree hung on the wall by the reception desk. An old lady stood querulously waiting for a cup of tea, leaning on her zimmer frame under the painting of a girl by Ellen Terry. And we will all come to this, thought Pauline. But I hadn’t thought about it.

*

As she drove away from Copperfield Hall, from the funeral of her real father, Pauline O’Brien Bonham understood that something irrevocable had happened to her.

Whatever the cost, before it was too late, she was going to reclaim her career.

As an Actress.

19

The Seagull played to packed houses every night: it was still almost impossible to get a ticket; now in the autumn there were still many tourists, particularly American, who wanted to see the Russian masterpiece played by the best English actors.

Every night Juliet Lyall got to the theatre early, did her relaxation breathing, her voice exercises. She also played her other role, the star of the show: arranged for her dresser to give out cakes during the intervals if a member of the company had a birthday, made sure she always said hello to the understudies.

She received flowers from admirers of one sort or another night after night; her dresser was always deciding which ones to keep, which ones to send to the Great Ormond Street Hospital for Sick Children, which to discard. Every night after the show, people came to the Number One dressing room: people Juliet knew, people she’d heard of, people she’d never heard of at all. Japanese University professors, her hairdresser, American academics, directors and actors from the National Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company, a woman she’d been to school with in Wiltshire, film people from Los Angeles. Her dresser handed out champagne, Juliet was truly gracious. Sometimes, later, she could be seen at one of the restaurants actors frequent after performances.

During the day she went to her osteopath, her accountant, her psychoanalyst, her hairdresser, her dentist, her masseuse. Her personal assistant came to the house in Chelsea every morning to help with the mail.