‘Dandruff, you said! Tar! Dreary! Pretty façade but no one is at home.’

‘I said all that? Me?’

‘And more. Much more.’

‘Oh my God! But I was just, well … just words, they weren’t meant seriously, I was just camping about, you know me, Bert.’

‘They were serious, I know. I always have listened to your advice, remember? With the Palazzo, with the contract for Bloomingdale’s … with so many brilliant suggestions you made, all so useful, always so right. When you said, last week, that I should have left Hagel just where I found him, in the Four Seasons hotel, my heart froze … froze like ice. Ayeee! I said to myself, she is speaking the truth: I have been blinded by my obsession that he is right for the role … but she is a dispassionate woman, she has advised me all my life, she has never been wrong … and now! And now! My confidence that day was destroyed, completely destroyed.’

Minerva looked across at Belluno in despair. His dark glasses in the gloom two black pits where his eyes were: she found no consolation there, only a double reflection of her pale face. ‘But I really wasn’t giving you advice! I didn’t mean you to be so literal. It was just … well, Bert, I was exhausted by the trip, remember? I was tired. They just came out: I agree that I suggested the kid should have a break…’

Grottorosso raised a steady hand. ‘But that was the fatal error! I should not have taken that advice, we should have continued with the training. The boy is a peasant, you were right in that, but a peasant must be driven; you cannot let them relax into indifference, they despise kindness, and I was kind. That is my error; your error was not understanding the psychology of the peasant mind. I do.’

‘So it was really all my fault in the end, is that it?’

He smiled pleasantly across the gloomy cabin. ‘It was not a wise suggestion, that is all; I listened to your advice and acted upon it, that was my fault, I really must not blame you.’

He’s really digging himself a hell of a pit, she thought, let me just hand him another spade.

‘Are we insured against this kind of accident?’ she asked.

Belluno shook his head. ‘No, no … only during production. Not so long before. And in any case it hardly qualifies as an accident during training. We were all on a little holiday together … to get to know each other, really. No, we are not insured.’

‘Dear God. And the boy. Hagel? What kind of a contract does he have? I can’t remember.’

‘It is with “Orestes Productions”, just that. A personal contract between Umberto and himself. He was very happy to sign it: twenty-five thousand dollars! It was a fortune for a boy like that.’

‘With an option?’

‘With options for the next two pictures, if this one had worked.’