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The service seemed interminable and her knees, despite the homely handstitched hassock beneath them, ached. She managed to calm herself when Gary rose to give the eulogy. The tribute from the renowned cinematographer was everything that Dan deserved; Gary hailed him as ‘one of the finest directors of our generation, who never forgot that every single person counts’.

At last, the coffin left the building and Shauna blotted her tears with Roxy’s never-ending supply of tissues.

‘You’re doing brilliantly. Not too much longer,’ Roxy told her.

‘Shauna, darling. I’m so sorry for your loss. Dan was … was a wonderful man.’

Shauna blinked and gave Barbara Draven, anchorwoman on the local news show, a perfunctory nod.

‘I hope you caught the obit we did,’ Barbara simpered.

‘I’m afraid I didn’t.’ Shauna was polite but she certainly wasn’t going to apologize. Seeing Dan’s coffin lowered into the ground had almost broken her, and she still had the wake to get through.

‘Is she for real?’ murmured Roxy into her ear as they drifted on into the Beverly Hills Hotel reception room where the mourners were gathered.

‘Well, she’s LA news real, anyway – only interested in the next story. Why are there so many media people here? Hollywood’s not usually that interested in directors, even if he was brilliant and talented and wonderful.’ She felt her control start to slip again.

‘Because he was brilliant, talented and wonderful and married to you, one of Hollywood’s hottest properties.’

Shauna had never forgotten that her lucky break had been meeting Dan and she’d never shied away from admitting that he had been her springboard into the industry. She was also aware that the story of how she got started certainly added to the romance of her and Dan’s marriage and their reputation as a Hollywood power couple. But everything after that had come from hard work, determination and dedication. She couldn’t believe it was over: their life, everything they had built up. Now she would never know what it was that had been eating away at Dan; all she knew was that the stress and anxiety it had caused him was part of the reason he was dead.

The autopsy had shown that Dan had cocaine in his system when he died. Shauna had been aware that he was a user – the late nights, the long shoots, the protracted editing process, the Hollywood lifestyle that demanded it. She’d rarely touched the stuff herself, preferring a stiff drink, but she should have done more to get Dan to stop. Something else to beat herself up about.

The hubbub of the room softened to a low murmur; mourners seemed to have spread out in a circle around her, an invisible barrier between Shauna and the mourners that no one wanted to cross. She had never felt so alone in her life and thought she overheard someone say, ‘Poor woman, always the last to know …’

To know about what?

‘Shauna?’ She jumped at the tap on her arm. It was Isaac. ‘You OK?’

‘Bearing up,’ she said, looking with longing towards the open doors. ‘People are saying lovely things about Dan. I knew he was wonderful. I forget that other people did too.’

‘Yeah … he was a regular saint.’ Isaac stared off into the distance, his grey eyes stony before he turned to face her and patted her on the arm. ‘You eaten today?’

Shauna raised an eyebrow, her mouth turning downwards. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think, although don’t quote me on it, there’s such a thing, even in Tinsel Town, as too skinny.’ He waggled a grey bushy eyebrow. ‘Don’t forget I’ve got to protect my asset. You need to eat.’

‘Thanks, Isaac.’ She knew his gruff tone hid how much he genuinely cared. ‘I don’t think I can.’ But she knew she ought to; she didn’t want anyone realizing that grief was making her a little crazy.

‘You can, kid. Dan wouldn’t want you wasting away.’

‘Low blow, Isaac,’ she muttered, linking an arm through his.

‘Hey, I’m a businessman. Remember?’ He winked and steered her away from the doors.

She did her best, nibbling at a couple of hors d’oeuvres, but the smell of the caviar dotting the dainty vol au vents turned her stomach and the delicate crustless triangle sandwiches tasted of sand in her mouth. Shauna would happily see every crumb on her plate go into the trash. As soon as Isaac’s attention was diverted elsewhere, she abandoned the plate and slipped to the next, much quieter room where she was able to step out into the courtyard.

Outside, she inhaled a lungful of the warm air and drifted unnoticed into the shade of a fragrant honeysuckle climbing its way up one of the slender columns of the small cloister area. Screened from view by the column, she watched a young boy darting about the garden, playing with a small car. She envied his absorption in his game, oblivious to the heavy emotion weighing down the adults around him.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Isaac emerging from the building. Wanting a little more time on her own, she drew back further into the shadows. Isaac was with a young woman, or rather she was with him, because he had a strong grip on her arm and was almost dragging her through the doors.

Shauna was startled by this; she’d never seen Isaac so angry. She was about to step out from her hiding place to intervene, but then she saw the woman’s face. Though she didn’t recognize her, from the feline, calculating look in the woman’s eye, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

‘What the hell are you playing at?’ Isaac hissed, and Shauna winced at the tone of his voice. Isaac rarely lost his temper. That was one of the things she liked about him: he was even-tempered and impervious to the histrionics of the industry. ‘You shouldn’t be here.’

‘Shouldn’t be here? You’re kidding me, right?’ The dark-haired woman’s voice rose. Her accent matched her Latin-American appearance.

‘Keep your damn voice down. And show some respect.’ Isaac shook the woman’s arm.