Hazel had also been fortunate. She had brought Maxie home to meet her family two months after they started dating. They’d welcomed her warmly. Hazel’s grandfather even asked for her autograph. Hazel had smiled at that. It was a running joke between them that Hazel had had no idea who Maxie was when they first met at a theatre fundraiser for a refugee charity. She rarely watched TV.

Maxie had thought she was joking that first time they talked backstage. There had been a break in rehearsals while a sound problem was being fixed. Hazel had taken the opportunity to tweak the lighting design and come down to the stage. They’d fallen into conversation. Hazel hadn’t realised Maxie was one of the stars. With that pixie cut she looked like a chorus member.

Hazel had asked her what other work she’d done, presumably imagining Maxie would list off other West End shows. Instead, she mentioned her Australian soap and her long-running starring role in the gritty English drama. Hazel apologised that she’d never seen either. She’d given a soft laugh – Maxie still loved the way Hazel laughed – and confessed that she didn’t own a TV.

‘You watch everything online?’ Maxie asked.

‘No,’ Hazel said. ‘I barely watch TV at all. I read.’

That started a conversation about favourite books. Fortunately Maxie read as well as watched TV. They went for a drink that night. To talk more about books, they said. The next night too, to talk about more than books. They spent the weekend together. They’d been together ever since.

From the start, Maxie had wanted to shout from the rooftops about Hazel. She still did. But that was the one sticking point between them. Hazel hated the spotlight. Ironic, considering what she did for a living. But she’d been insistent.

‘You know I love you, Maxie,’ Hazel said one night. ‘But I never want to be seen publicly with you.’

‘You’re ashamed of me?’

‘No, I’m mad about you. When you’re yourself, when you’re my Maxie. But I don’t want to be part of your world when you’re being Maxine Hill.’

She’d tried to change Hazel’s mind over the years, of course. Invited her to gala award ceremonies. Weekends away for photo shoots in glossy magazines.

‘No, thank you,’ Hazel said each time. ‘I’d rather eat my own arm.’

‘But you’re in show business too,’ Maxie argued. ‘You know how it works. Publicity equals viewers and ticket sales.’

‘You do any publicity you like,’ Hazel said. ‘Run naked through Soho if you want. But leave me out of it.’

Hazel loved the theatre world, but only the backstage world. She’d started as an assistant stage manager in regional theatres, before discovering her interest lay in the magic and illusion that proper lighting design could create. She’d graduated from smaller to bigger theatres, her reputation for originality, dedication and calm humour growing. All leading to this wonderful job on Broadway.

Maxie was so proud of her. Hazel made her so happy. Made her feel so loved. So safe, secure, supported. Energised, encouraged, entertained. She loved talking to her, cooking together, sleeping with her, planning their lives together. The thought of being away from her for even a few months was what prompted their forthcoming marriage.