‘Who knows? I don’t know him anymore. Never did, I realise now. Somewhere along the line he changed his name, divorcing himself from his family in England. Re-invented himself. Why? I hate to think,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how I never saw this side to him. Maybe I didn’t want to.’

Steve gave a low whistle. ‘A teller of tales, a spin doctor, a deceiver. You saw what you wanted to see,’ he said gently. ‘Don’t beat yourself up.’

‘I try not to. I feel badly enough. What I can’t seem to escape is the feeling that he’ll never let me go.’ She saw Andy wave at her and gave herself a little shake. ‘Anyway. It’s my problem. The last thing I want is for it to interfere with my working life, all this.’

Andy had ordered champagne and the group gathered around him to celebrate Johnny’s announcement.

‘Johnny is a networker,’ said Andy. ‘He put the word out to agents in LA and London a year ago, and as it happened the dates for the opening suited Bruno, who is doing a concert tour in Singapore, KL and Manila, and visiting family as well. I’d say Johnny offered up a shitload of US dollars, private jet, choppers and a good time . . . easy peasy . . . Bruno booked.’

‘I feel like saying to Johnny, “Enough already!” I’m on overload.’ Grace laughed.

Steve chuckled. ‘He only operates at one speed – full on! I’m thinking we might need body cameras on some extra cameramen, to walk around into the action and film it like virtual reality.’

‘So long as they don’t film any of the performers,’ Grace said. ‘Record companies usually don’t allow their major artists’ performances at private parties to be professionally recorded. We need to see people dancing, enjoying themselves, the atmosphere, food and drinks, that sort of thing, so the viewer feels they’re there.’

‘Righto, boss,’ said Steve affably. Then he leaned in and said more quietly, ‘Say, want to find somewhere quieter and have a coffee?’

Grace nodded.

They walked to a nearby café that had become their favourite and sat down under the shade of a colourful, wide umbrella.

‘By the way,’ Grace said after they’d ordered their drinks. ‘I have some news about K’tut’s book rights. Well, nothing too productive, unfortunately.’

‘No luck, huh?’ Steve asked.

‘The mystery deepens. After we met with Tim yesterday I found the Aussie producer who bought the rights to her autobiography and announced they were making a movie of it in the eighties. I tracked him down in Sydney and rang him. He’s retired from the business now . . .’

‘That might help our cause. What’d he have to say?’

‘To quote him directly, he said, “Don’t speak to me about that woman! She took me to the cleaners!” So the conversation didn’t go too far.’