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Shauna threw herself on to her large leather sofa and eyed the pile of manuscripts that Isaac had sent her way this week. He only sent her the most interesting ones, but before she had a chance to look at the first one, a script from Julian Fellowes, one of Dan’s old friends, the phone rang.

It was Isaac. ‘Hey doll, how you doing?’ He was calling her from his office in New York and Shauna could picture him in her mind’s eye, looking out over Central Park while chomping on a Cuban cigar.

‘Hey, Isaac, tell me about this Gosford Park script—’

‘Hold everything, I’ve just heard about a project you won’t want to miss.’

‘I don’t know, Isaac. I’ve been thinking of taking a break for a while, so Dan and I could get away from LA. He’s been working too hard and badly needs some time out. A shoot in England would be a great compromise: Dan could relax and spend time with his family while I’m working, and—’

‘Hear me out before you do anything.’

‘OK, Isaac, I can see there’ll be no peace until you tell me.’

‘Wait for it … There’s a Grace Kelly biopic in the making.’

Shauna laughed; Isaac knew her so well. ‘OK, you got me, who’s making it?’

‘Columbia Pictures – they want Steven Spielberg, and he’ll only do it if he can get you on board.’

Shauna felt that familiar rush of adrenaline, that special tingle an actress only feels very rarely. Spielberg directing her as Grace. She must be dreaming. ‘Isaac, are you sure about this?’

‘Never been surer of anything in my life. He wants to meet you – to talk about the part.’

‘When?’

‘Soon. How badly do you want it?’

Shauna took a breath, trying to steady her racing heart. ‘I want it more than I’ve ever wanted a role in my life.’

‘That’s what I thought … leave it with me.’ And with that, he rang off.

Shauna was still for a moment, his words ringing in her ears, then she leapt off her sofa and did a dance of joy around the room. Easy, Shauna, she told herself, nothing is certain in this town until you’ve signed on the dotted line. Rome and Paris would have to wait.

She raced out of the room and down the stairs and knocked on the door to Dan’s office. When he didn’t reply, she started to go in to tell him the good news, but he was gone. As she set off in search of him, she saw movement through the windows in the lobby. Dan was leaping into his vintage Jaguar, which was parked next to her more everyday BMW in the drive. With a screech of tyres, he was gone.

Shauna wondered what could have caused him to leave in such a hurry. Neither of them had been planning to go out until this evening, when they were having dinner with friends. Then she remembered his phone call earlier and felt anxious. Determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on with Dan, she resolved that tonight, when they got home from dinner, she would insist that he tell her the truth.

Gary Fisher was one of Dan’s closest friends. Old enough to be Dan’s father, he’d been blacklisted during the McCarthy era and forced to spend years in exile in Europe. The wilderness years came to an end when his work with David Lean earned him an Oscar; after that he’d enjoyed a renaissance in Hollywood and he was now respected as one of the finest cinematographers of his generation. His partner, Eric, younger than him by some decades, was a Hollywood stylist who knew all the latest gossip – who was sleeping with who, and who’d been thrown off the set of their latest picture. Dan loved spending time with the two of them. He knew how difficult it had been for Gary when he was ostracized by Hollywood’s elite, and it made him happy to know that in his golden years his friend was getting the recognition he truly deserved, and that he’d found a partner who truly loved him and looked after him.

Usually, Dan loved nothing better than to relax in their company, but tonight he felt trapped. This afternoon had been one of the worst of his life. Frankie had called him at home, demanding to see him right away and refusing to take no for an answer.

‘I need more money,’ she’d told him when he picked her up downtown. Her eyes blazed darkly as she sat in the passenger seat of the Jaguar.

‘You’ve had two hundred thousand dollars out of me already. I can’t keep giving you money, Frankie, this has to stop.’

‘It stops when I say it does,’ she’d spat. ‘You have everything you need, a home worth millions of dollars, your fancy cars, your beautiful wife.’

There had been a time when Dan felt some sympathy for her, but now he saw that she was out to destroy him. He should never have let it go this far.

‘No, Frankie. I’m not giving you another penny.’

‘Then your beautiful life will be in ruins, because I’ll tell the whole world about your dirty little secret.’

Dan had felt his anger snap, and he’d grabbed Frankie by her shoulders. ‘I don’t care any more, Frankie. You’ll not get a penny more from me, do you hear? Take your filthy story, your lies and your dirty secret and sell them to whoever will pay you the most money.’

‘I’ll destroy every shred of your life, I’ll tell them everything – about Alex, about your drug habits …’

It was all Dan could do to stop himself from physically throwing her out of his car. Instead, he’d leaned across and opened the passenger door, then commanded her: ‘Get. Out.’