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Molly tutted and opened her phone. ‘Fucking screen makes my eyes go weird.’ She gave Ashley an imploring look. ‘I think I’m dyslexic.’

‘Can you read it like that?’ Ashley asked.

Molly sighed. ‘Just about. But I’ve got no chance of getting off book.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means I can’t memorise it.’

‘Do you have to memorise it? It’s a last-minute audition.’

‘I guess,’ Molly grumbled.

Ashley smiled as she watched her turn back to her phone. She was out of excuses, and now she was simply reading it.

Outside, London crawled past. Traffic. Pedestrians. A bloke arguing with a parking meter.

Molly did an extra loud tut. ‘This is rubbish.’

‘You’ve read two pages.’

‘Still rubbish. This joke isn’t funny.’

‘Maybe you’ll make it funny.’

‘Maybe I’ll make it worse. God, I hate bombing.’

‘You won’t bomb.’

‘You don’t know that.’

Ashley thought she did, actually. Molly had spent two hours making her laugh without trying very hard. Half the time she wasn’t even trying to be funny. She had that way about her.

And Ashley knew performers. Most spent years trying to look relaxed and easily charismatic. Molly just was.

‘You’re funny,’ Ashley said.

Molly tried not to look pleased. ‘Okay.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘I’m still not going to get it.’

‘You haven’t even auditioned yet.’

‘Like that’ll help.’

‘Do you like acting?’ Ashley asked her.

‘That’s got nothing to do with it.’

Ashley smiled at Molly. ‘Feels like it might.’

Molly sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, so you’re gonna use my wisdom against me now?’

Ashley shrugged and looked back out the window. She didn’t say the rest. That Molly felt inevitable. Ashley couldn’t imagine her staying unnoticed forever.

The cab stopped outside a casting office, and Ashley got out first, pulling Molly gently from the cab. Molly looked at the building. Then at Ashley. Then back at the building.