After starting her career on Australian soaps, a trip to the UK sixteen years earlier had been a gamble, but one that paid off. Olivia and Jeannie had urged her to go. Her agent in Australia had recommended an agent in London. She’d shown her a highlights reel. She also had a British passport, courtesy of her English grandfather.

Her timing was perfect. A gritty crime drama was in development. The producers were seeking an actress for the lead role. She auditioned three times before she got it. In the years since, her character had been through three husbands, had gone to jail twice, had embezzled, burgled, stolen, deceived. The season was finishing with a bang, literally. Her character’s rival had arranged for a Molotov cocktail to be thrown through the window of Maxie’s character’s house.

The publicity department had kept under wraps whether she survived or not. That evening, when the episode aired, a nation of viewers would learn that she’d survived, angrier than ever. She was seriously injured in hospital, however. She’d need extensive plastic surgery and a long rehabilitation. The producers hoped that would cover the fact that when the TV series returned for its next season, her character would only be heard in voiceover, phoning from abroad, where she was recovering.

Maxie had loved her time on the show, but she’d known it was time for a change. Hazel coming into her life had given her all the impetus she needed. She was not only happier than she’d ever been in her personal life, she was ready to take a step back from her acting career, even temporarily. Explore other creative possibilities. The playwriting. Perhaps even a TV script too.

A week after their wedding, Hazel would be moving to New York to work on The Railway Children. Maxie would follow her as soon as she’d packed up their flat. The TV network hadn’t been happy about her decision to leave, of course. Nor had her agent. The regular fee from her starring role benefited him too. Recording the voiceovers wouldn’t pay as well as day after day on set. But she knew it was the right decision for her for now.

She sealed the envelope. She’d take it down to the post office later. It was a surprisingly good interview. They weren’t always. She knew from her publicist that the newpaper had asked for a photo of Maxie and Hazel together to use in the feature, too. There had been no chance of that.

It was common knowledge that Maxie was gay. She’d never hidden it, either at work, with friends or in interviews. ‘If I could come out to the head nun in my final year of school, I can handle the British media,’ she’d told her agent when the subject first came up years earlier. She’d told her parents while she was at uni. She’d been lucky. They were liberal-minded, progressive Catholics, non-judgemental. Her two older brothers had taken it in their stride too.