He moved back to his desk and undipped sheets of fax paper from a chrome letter rack, checking through them. ‘I had a call from a company called VideoArts. They make corporate promos, and they’re looking for featured extras. The first call is Hampstead Heath on Friday morning, early start, dress in your own clothes.’

That means 6.00 a.m., thought Peter, have to book a cab there, stand around freezing in the pitch dark waiting for the director to show up.

Jonathan was watching him, waiting for his reaction. It was a test to see if he would show willing.

‘Well, do you want it?’

Time to be a good boy. Reluctantly, he agreed to go along. ‘Good, now we’re getting somewhere.’ Jonathan’s smile only affected the lower part of his face. He waved the sheet of paper, ineffectually fanning himself. ‘The company produces ten promos for the same client every year, and they like to keep their cast consistent. It’s just extra-work, but they might take you on permanently, which would mean a regular monthly cheque.’

And a regular percentage for you, thought Peter. Another dead-end job that would advance him nowhere. He’d see how it went, but after this perhaps he wouldn’t need an agent at all. He had recently heard of a more interesting proposition, a casting call which hadn’t come through his agent and had far greater possibilities than a god-awful boring sales promo.

At the Fulham Road gym the following morning Peter checked out the details with Fanny, who worked in the coffee bar. As far as she knew, the rumour she had heard a few days ago was true. One of the actors using the free-weight room had told her – she couldn’t remember who. He’d casually mentioned a feature film that was due to start shooting in less than a week. It was being produced by a Dutch, or perhaps a Belgian company, a thriller set in present-day London, but she hadn’t been able to understand the title. Filming would take place in central locations for a minimum six week period, and because of casting problems a number of male speaking roles were still to be cast. She remembered the name of the contact, but had no telephone number. It would take a bit of sleuthing to find that out.