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Marianne arched an eyebrow.

“Are you telling me that you don’t want to kiss him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Marianne smiled knowingly.

“So, it’s settled then?” she said.

Davina’s mind raced. It was the most insane thing she’d ever heard. She glanced back at Derek in his skintight jeans and shuddered. She was desperate. The only other actors she knew who could help her out were busy during her narrow filming time frame. Her brain ticked over. Maybe, if she rewrote the rest of Jack’s part, maybe it would work. She could get him down to one or two lines at most. And, as Marianne pointed out, he wouldn’t even talk in this scene.

“Look,” Marianne said. “We can shoot it from behind, out in the garden, so that when you open the door and kiss him, all the acting we see will be on your part.”

It might work.

“But what if he talks?”

“Make sure he doesn’t.”

“What if he doesn’t want to kiss me?”

Marianne gave her a look that said: yeah, right.

“How the heck am I going to get him to ring the front doorbell?”

“Leave that to me,” Marianne said confidently.

Davina chewed her lower lip for a second before her shoulders slumped.

“You know,” she told her friend, “I’m supposed to be the one who’s a bad influence on you.”

Marianne patted her shoulder.

“I know.” She grinned. “I get away with murder because of it.”

They turned to Derek.

“New plan,” Davina said. “We are going to use the gardener. I appreciate your offer to stand in, but that would mean someone else working the camera and I’m afraid your skill is too precious to waste.”

“Smooth,” Marianne mumbled behind her.

Davina elbowed her in the ribs.

“So, why doesn’t Marianne show you where to set up while I get changed?”

“That’s a great idea,” Marianne said cheerfully as she pushed past Davina. She grabbed Derek’s arm and marched him towards the door. Behind his back she gave Davina the thumbs-up.

Davina looked out into the garden. It wasn’t every day you had to trick someone into starring in a movie. She bet Meryl Streep didn’t have this sort of problem. Her stomach tightened. There was no way to know how Jack would react or what he would do. But she was a desperate woman. In more ways than one.

She ran upstairs, grabbed the clothes her character wore in this scene – faded jeans and an over-sized men’s shirt – then set about sorting her hair and makeup. She tied her long hair up into a ponytail and redid her makeup so that it was subdued, almost invisible. Add to that a pair of flat sneakers and she was a different person. Unrecognisable without her false lashes and four inch heels. Her stomach fluttered. What if Jack didn’t think this Davina was attractive enough to kiss? She stuffed the thought in alongside all the others she had trapped in her denial box. One of these days the box would burst and she’d have to deal with all of it. But not today. She went downstairs to see how Marianne was going to get Jack to the door.

Davina’s prim friend marched up to Jack while he was digging up a flower bed and demanded, ever so politely, that he go to the front door and ring the bell because Davina wanted to talk to him.

“Ring the bell?” He leaned on his spade.

The fact she was so innocent-looking was a sure giveaway that something was up.

“Yes.” She nodded solemnly. “She’s in the living room, so there’s no point going to the back of the house. I’d just ring the bell.” She thought for a second. “Or you can knock if you want to.”