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‘I think I will.’

‘Sun and fruit stop a person from being abstract, that’s a well-known fact.’

‘I did not know that.’

‘Oh yeah, there’s nothing better for it.’

‘I’ll take action.’

‘You should. Hey, so. Did you get your Thunderbirds off?’

‘Captain Scarlett?’

‘Yeah, that one.’

‘Yeah, all good. Script’s in and the cash should be through next week.’

Not true. The script wasn’t in. The cash wasn’t coming. I hadn’t written a single usable word of it. Still – this was my mess, and my job to fix it. Imogen didn’t need to know how bad the mess had become.

‘Good stuff, Quinn,’ she said. ‘So what’re you doing now?’

Good stuff, Quinn. A twist of guilt grabbed my stomach. I pushed it away.

‘Hello?’

‘Sorry. I’m here. What did you say?

‘What are you doing now?’

‘I’m watching you sleep.’

‘Oh God, you’re not, are you? Am I thrashing around? I’ve been having the weirdest dreams.’

‘No, you’re just lying there. All still and serene.’

‘That’s something, then.’

‘You’re really very calm. And you had a nine-four-five a minute ago.’