‘I’m sure it’s no more than a formality if you get on well,’ said Horton, returning now to his own large leather-embossed desk ‘they wouldn’t get you to fly across the world on a whim. Bud Martin had seen The Seagull as you’d heard, so of course when the tape was waiting for him when he got back to Los Angeles he looked at it immediately, was very impressed. It was a clever idea of yours Juliet, to film that stuff and send the tape so quickly. And of course he’d seen you in New York too.’ He sat back, pulled at his chin for a moment. ‘He’s not an easy man of course.’

‘The director?’

‘Mmmmm.’ Horton’s face was unreadable.

‘I’m not an easy woman.’

‘No,’ said Horton, ‘that is true.’ For a moment he wondered whether to say more.

It is said there are no secrets in Hollywood. But it was a fairly well-kept secret that the American director, Bud Martin, would do anything to get the performance he wanted; Juliet Lyall would certainly not know that. The reason the secret was well-kept was because Bud Martin knew too much about some of the actors he’d worked with for them to want to talk about it. Ever. One of Horton’s clients had had a nervous breakdown after making a film with him; that had been expensive, in more ways than one.

Horton looked at the self-confident, mature, but still beautiful woman sitting elegantly across the room. She was valuable property. And, as he knew so well, she was tough. You had to be made of a toughness beyond the comprehension of ordinary people to get where she had got.

‘Don’t underestimate Bud Martin,’ was all he finally said and he picked up the phone to dial Los Angeles. ‘It would be a great great coup darling getting the part from all those American actresses, top billing, lots of publicity, and real proper money, not stage money and not English money either – real money, American money – hello Art, Art it’s Horton, she’ll be on the plane...’