He hoped Jonathan wouldn’t hear of this latest fiasco too quickly. The misunderstanding could jeopardize his film audition. It would be easy for someone to put in a call and spoil his chances. All work was supposed to go through the agent. Peter was expected to call at the end of the morning shoot, so he went to the public library at Hampstead and hung around until lunchtime, then rang from a pub callbox. He assured Jonathan that everything had gone well, and the agent’s replies were relaxed and pleasant, as though the day’s first bottle of gin was already improving his view of the world.

Back out in the street it had begun to rain hard. Shoppers loitered disconsolately beneath shop awnings, waiting for the downpour to ease. Peter kept a beret in his pocket, and pulled it on to keep his hair dry. It would have helped to know something about the role he was going for. He checked the address he had written down, and headed for the tube station.

The afternoon was already darkening when he arrived in the Edgware Road, skirting filthy puddles to locate a small turning between the kebab shops and falafel bars. Walking to the far end of the street, he found himself in the remains of a cobbled road facing an old Victorian warehouse of the kind beloved by film location managers. Heavy steel shutters sealed what had once been entranceways for horses and carts. The base of the graffiti-stained building was steeped in rubbish and chunks of rotting vegetable matter, swept in from the market which operated inside during the day. Several small windows had been shattered, but all were barred and topped with spikes. For any normal job interview, the building would have sparked feelings of anxiety and revulsion. Peter knew better than to be alarmed. He could see the fierce yellow light shining behind the broad first floor windows, light that could only be thrown by the 10K lamps of a film set.