‘Shut up Harry,’ said Anthony shortly. He looked away, felt for a new cigarette packet, fumbled with the cellophane. ‘Why the fuck did we come?’ He moved his body, turned, trying to feel some movement of air on his face from the open French window, looked out over the rooftops and the chimney pots that shimmered in the sweltering London afternoon.

Izzy, sitting beside them on the floor, looked bemused. ‘But isn’t it nice to see everyone, see how they’ve got on?’

Both Anthony and Harry looked at her almost guiltily. They’d forgotten she was there.

‘It’s nice to see you Izzy,’ said Harry and even Anthony smiled for a moment.

‘Yes it is Izzy,’ he said, ‘what are you doing? Are you working?’

Izzy smiled at them both, but not self-consciously.

‘I do get by,’ she said. ‘I don’t get the big jobs like the rest of you; I was never as good as you – no I wasn’t,’ as Harry seemed about to interrupt. ‘I know I looked – sort of – middle-aged, even when I was young, and I wasn’t nearly as good as someone like Emmy Lou, or Molly or Juliet, but I do work you know, I just seem to go from job to job. I’m understudying at the National now and playing small parts – and I love it, I feel privileged to be in this profession, I love my work, I do really.’ She stopped, pink-cheeked.

Anthony and Harry smiled back at Izzy, it was impossible not to. But both of them were thinking that if they were doing what she was doing they would have committed suicide or become insurance salesmen long ago.

Anthony poked at the empty bottle as if to conjure more wine out of it and then rolled it along the floor. ‘Do you know,’ he said, ‘I thought for a moment I saw Nicky Abbott, but when I looked again of course it wasn’t her.’

The glass slipped from Harry Donaldson’s hand. It didn’t break, the remains of his wine dribbled across the floorboards.

‘What is it Harry?’ said Izzy.

But Harry only shook his head, felt for his handkerchief, dabbed at the spilt wine. ‘Sorry,’ he said shortly. He looked quickly around the crowded room. And then, recovering, though Izzy heard anger in his voice, he said, ‘Nicky Abbott was the best actress I ever saw.’

‘I always remember her voice,’ said Izzy, ‘all smoky and strange and dark.’

‘I wonder whatever happened to her,’ said Anthony. ‘She made that one film, Heartbreak, that should have made her a star for life and then she just disappeared off the face of the earth.’ He looked up just at that moment and saw Frances and Emmy Lou coming towards them. ‘Oh dear,’ he said, ‘the menopause twins,’ but dryly to Harry, knowing they were his best friends. ‘Hi darlings,’ he said aloud.

‘They’re your age exactly Tony,’ said Harry.