‘But I’m not here to talk about me, I’m here to talk about Johnnie and Dahlia. And I think the brilliance of Lettice Davenport’s books is how each generation finds something new in them. They still speak to us, like, ninety-plus years after the first ones were written. She wrote for her audience back then, reflecting the world she lived in. So we’re making this film for our audience now, and reflecting our world. Even if we are doing it in a period context.’ He gave a small, self-deprecating laugh, which was almost lost in the whoop of support and cheers from the crowd. ‘If that makes any sense at all.’

‘Makes perfect sense to me,’ the audience member who’d taken the microphone for the next question said. ‘But what about the character itself? What are you looking forward to about playing DI Johnnie Swain?’

‘Honestly? It’s refreshing to play a male lead who doesn’t have all the answers,’ Kit said. ‘I mean, he goes in there thinking he’s going to solve everything, right? But eventually he has to learn to trust that Dahlia has much better instincts when it comes to murder than he does.’

That got another laugh.

‘They’re such opposites, it’s going to be a fun dynamic to work with, I can tell. They don’t like each other much at the start …’ He snuck a flirtatious glance at Posy. ‘But as the film goes on, they learn to respect and even like each other, long before they ever share their first kiss. I like that slow burn aspect of their relationship, and I’m excited to see how Libby works it into the script.’

‘So you haven’t read the final script yet?’ his questioner piped up from the audience.

Kit laughed. ‘I don’t think anybody has! Well, apart from Anton, and the family. Libby? You said it’s done, right?’

Libby nodded but didn’t say anything else. Anton didn’t respond.

Posy couldn’t resist. Marcus was watching. If he had anything to do with her blackmail note …

‘I haven’t read the whole thing,’ she said, suddenly. ‘But I do have one page of it right here …’

She pulled the page from the bag at her side, then held it up in the air, making sure the crowd didn’t get a look at the handwritten scrawl on the back. While the audience gasped at it – many trying to get a photo on their phone that they could zoom in on to read – Posy studied Marcus’s reaction.

Nothing. Either he was a better actor than she’d given him credit for, or the script page didn’t mean anything to him. Looked like it was all Clementine, then. And she was gone, on the run from the police. Surely she wouldn’t try and do anything with the photos now? Not when it could lead the police right to her?