‘Yes,’ said Esme, pulling her bag from her shoulder. This would prove her right. She reached into her bag, fumbling around inside, spilling the contents onto the floor. Her hand trembled as with a sickening dread, she realised she’d left it next to the kettle last night after showing Leo something. Running late this morning, she’d forgotten to re-pack it. Esme raised her eyes to heaven and gave a silent prayer, hoping this wouldn’t go against her. From the corner of her eye, she caught Felicity’s face. A sly smile spread across her plumped-up lips and she held a tissue to her eyes to hide it.

‘Do you have it with you?’ asked Sasha. ‘It would be useful to have a look at it.’

Esme bit her lip as a flush crept up her neck and into her cheeks. ‘I’m afraid I left it at home.’

Felicity scoffed. ‘Probably because there is no book. You seem to lie about everything, Miss Kendrick. Is Esme even your real name?’

‘Now, now,’ interrupted David, putting a hand on Felicity’s arm. ‘I know you’re upset, Felicity, and justifiably so, but let’s not get personal.’

‘Personal?’ she shouted, clutching her chest. ‘This is very personal to me, David. That woman is accusing me of lying to the whole world. If this got out, it would be a PR nightmare for me and the studio, and I would be left with no option but to sue. I have to protect my reputation.’

Esme’s mouth flew open, irked by Felicity’s overacting. ‘I’m not the liar here, you are. You did steal it. You overheard me say I was going to pitch it and then you jumped in before I could. You must have been lurking by the coffee machine when you listened in to us chatting.’

‘Lurking? How absurd,’ laughed Felicity, brushing her hair away from her face so they could see her full shocked expression, but Esme detected a hint of concern in her voice. ‘You have no proof of that, do you?’

‘Do you have any proof, Esme?’ asked Sasha. ‘Who were you chatting to?’ She was so calm Esme wondered if she was a robot and the scarf hid a central control panel. How could anyone be so numb to another’s suffering? Esme chewed her lip, the tears welling in her eyes. She couldn’t risk Helena getting into trouble.

‘I’d rather not say,’ Esme replied, but even she knew it sounded feeble.

‘May I suggest,’ said David, the colour draining a little from his ruddy cheeks, ‘if that’s the case, we forget about this whole dreadful business. Esme has no proof and I’m sure that if there are any … similarities, as Sasha said, it’s simply coincidence.’