‘Maybe someone else in the room got the idea from him.’

‘I think it’s very unlikely.’ Ewan finished his wine. His little eyes blinked at us. ‘I know the people in that room better than anyone, and I think I’m the best judge of what they might and might not be capable of doing. I remember working on an improvisation with Jordan – the scene when he attacks Nurse Plimpton – and I can assure you that he found it incredibly difficult to find the trigger … the well of anger inside him.’

‘Was that before or after he nearly put her in hospital?’

‘I think you’re exaggerating. It was just a few bruises.’ He paused. ‘I’m not saying Jordan isn’t emotional. Quite the opposite. It’s not helped by the fact that he’s having marriage difficulties at the moment …’

‘I had no idea,’ Hawthorne lied.

‘Then I’m sorry I mentioned it. I just want you to understand that he would never hurt anyone.’ He looked at me across the top of his wine glass. ‘If you’re going to start throwing accusations around, you might as well know that Jordan wasn’t the only one. Anthony, for one, agreed with him.’

‘I didn’t!’

‘I saw you nod your head.’

‘Ewan – that’s not fair. I thought what he said was awful!’

‘I’m sure that’s true. I’m just pointing out that we’d all been drinking, it was late, the end of an intense evening, and emotions were running high. I wish Sky had never told us she had the review. I don’t know what she was thinking, anyway. She could have at least read it first.’

‘How did it make you feel?’ Hawthorne asked.

‘The review? It made me angry … bloody angry.’ So far Ewan had barely stammered, but he had to fight to get out the ‘b’ of bloody. He noticed the empty glass in his hand and went over to a trolley with its selection of bottles. ‘Are you sure you won’t have something?’ he asked.

‘We’re fine, thank you,’ Hawthorne said.

Ewan refilled his glass and came back to his chair.

‘First of all, it was unfair. Lots of people enjoyed it when we performed it outside London and I think it was sharper and stronger when we came in. But even if there were some failings – in the script, in my direction, whatever – she had no reason to be so filthy.’ He took another swig. ‘Harriet Throsby chose her words carefully,’ he continued. ‘That was what was so appalling about her. It’s one thing to criticise a play, but she did it in a very deliberate way, to cause the greatest upset. She was even at it at the party! I mean, you have to ask yourself, why would she even come to a first-night party? No critic does that. But she couldn’t resist the opportunity because she enjoyed hurting people – she relished it. You heard what she said to me.’

‘She hardly spoke to you,’ I said.