‘Okay, if you must.’ Gerrard sighed again and waved his hand towards the door as though giving Rowan permission. ‘Remember, pack for the week – I’ve organised a media-handling refresher for you too that’s happening on the Monday.’

‘Great.’ He was almost relieved enough that he didn’t sound sarcastic as he grabbed his phone and legged it before Gerrard could bring up more of his crimes against celebrity.

There was a small huddle of wardrobe crew just down the hallway, clearly waiting for his impromptu meeting to finish, and he threw them an apologetic smile and kept walking. He needed some privacy and the whole building seemed to be on the move, leaving for the weekend. He headed in the opposite direction. Rain was falling in sheets outside, so stepping into the car park wasn’t an option. There must besomewhereprivate where he could phone his brother-in-law, Terry, or his mum to find out what was happening and which hospital to head to.

The pre-production building was a maze of narrow corridors and doors with Post-it notes announcing their temporary use. He headed down the rear stairwell to the ground floor and spotted the open door to a small storage room. There was no light on, so he assumed it was empty. He started scrolling through his phone to bring up Terry’s number and his foot caught the small wedge of a doorstop that had been holding the door open as he darted inside.

‘No—’

He jumped at the female voice calling out from somewhere in the room.

‘Don’t let the door—’ there was a colossal bang and everything when black ‘—shut.’