A lightness rushed over Posy at the thought, and she grinned. ‘How much do you guys want to read this?’ She laughed, and the audience cheered appreciatively. ‘Sorry, sorry. No can do. It’s top secret until the boss says otherwise.’ She slipped the page back into her bag, ignoring the good-natured booing.

She’d been so busy watching Marcus, she hadn’t been paying attention to the people sitting on the table beside her.

Anton was fuming, she could tell that without even looking directly at him. An aura of anger surrounded him, and she could feel the tension in his back, the popping of his jaw, all the way from the other end of the table. Angry because she’d seen the script before she was supposed to, or because she was teasing the crowd? Or for some other reason? From the way he was glaring at her, she had a feeling she might find out as soon as the panel was over.

Kit looked confused, and perhaps a little envious. Libby, though, looked scared. And given Anton’s thunderous face, she didn’t blame her.

‘Okay, okay. Last question,’ Marcus called, as the crowd calmed.

‘What do you say to people who claim the movie is cursed?’ The question rang out around the suddenly silent marquee.

Posy held her breath and waited for Anton’s answer. Because of course Anton would be the one to answer this question – it was his movie.

Only, he didn’t. He stayed silent so long, that Kit grabbed the microphone and responded.

‘I think it makes a great story,’ he said, earning a laugh from the crowd. ‘I mean, it’s a murder mystery, it’s got a hell of a lot of history behind it, I can see why people want to believe in a curse. It adds a little extra magic, right? But in my experience, what looks like magic on the screen, or even curses in the media, is usually a lot of graft.’

That seemed to satisfy the crowd, even if it didn’t satisfy Posy one bit. It made her think.

A lot of graft. Was he right? Was someone working to make it seem like the film was cursed? And if so, who? Why?

Marcus launched into his wind-up spiel, reminding visitors that the evening buses would be waiting to take them back to the station shortly, and to meet at the front of the house. Just like that, the panel was over, and she’d survived it.

Glancing across the stage she saw Anton and Libby deep in conversation, the director looming over Libby as he stood beside her, his face thunderous. Time to escape, before he turned that rage on her.