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well?’
    ‘No,’ said Amy, rubbing her temples.
    ‘How about we go for some breakfast?’
    ‘Great. And then you can tell me what to do about my agent.’
    ‘What’s wrong with darling Driscilla?’
    ‘I think she’s going to get rid of me.’
    Annie frowned and perched next to her on the sofa bed.
    ‘Why do you say that?’
    ‘She just rang to tell me I haven’t got the job I auditioned for yesterday. Didn’t even speak to me – just left a message.’
    ‘I don’t think that’s very conclusive.’
    ‘It’s just a feeling,’ replied Amy, pressing her lips together. ‘I didn’t even get a Christmas card this year. When I first moved to London and signed with the agency, I’d get all these little lunches in Soho, phone calls twice a week to see how I was doing. Now my toe represents something of a problem and I think I’m about to get the kiss-off. Not even Driscilla wants me, Annie,’ she said, lying back and swinging her arms dramatically over her head.
    ‘You need protein. Eggs, bacon . . . Or maybe we could go to Fortnum’s for afternoon tea in the morning. I don’t have to be at work till two.’
    ‘And I gotta double shift at the Forge starting at one, which I need like a hole in the head,’ said Amy, wondering if she should just keep the Bird’s Nest curtains closed and not come out until the next decade.
    Annie left the room to go and get dressed and Amy sat up, crossed her legs and reached for her phone, half hoping that Daniel had had a change of heart and been in touch. She was greeted by the stream of messages that usually filled her inbox each morning – Groupon and a host of other discount websites she had once subscribed to.
    One address, however, she didn’t recognise. Georgia Hamilton.
    Frowning, she clicked on the message and began to read.
Dear Miss Carrell,
Thank you for your reply to my advertisement in The Lady magazine. Perhaps we could meet to discuss my situation further. As I am due to travel in just three days’ time, it might be better to do this sooner rather than later. Are you available today? Please call me on the number below. I look forward to meeting you.
Kind regards,
Georgia Hamilton (MA Cantab)
    ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Annie, coming back into the room and handing Amy a cup of black coffee.
    ‘I did something a bit crazy last night.’
    ‘Do I need to call a lawyer?’
    Amy explained about the advertisement in The Lady and her reply from Ms Hamilton.
    ‘It’s a Christmas miracle,’ gasped Annie, grabbing the magazine that Amy had flung down the night before. ‘It’s like Scent of a Woman .’
    ‘ Scent of a Woman ?’
    ‘That movie where Chris O’Donnell takes the blind man to New York. Al Pacino. Can you imagine if you were going with someone as sexy as Al Pacino,’ she said, her breath quickening in excitement.
    ‘Well, last time I looked, Georgia was a woman’s name,’ said Amy, unable to share her friend’s enthusiasm about this new development to the day.
    ‘Amy, last night you said you wanted to go back to New York, and here’s your opportunity.’
    ‘Except I’m not going to be accompanying Al Pacino. Best-case scenario it’s some no-friends weirdo; worst case . . . it’s a psychopath who wants to kill me and bury me under her petunias.’
    ‘It will be some little old lady who can’t carry her own bags . . . Now go, give her a ring and get it sorted. Otherwise you’re coming for Christmas at my parents’ place and you’re sharing a room with the dog.’
    An hour later, Amy was getting off the tube at Chalk Farm station. She still felt terrible and looked worse. Her meeting with Georgia Hamilton had been arranged for eleven o’clock, giving her time to get over to the Forge for after lunch. It had meant there was no time to go back to her apartment in Finsbury Park to change, and not wanting to turn up to her interview in last night’s now half-bald sequinned dress, she had been forced to borrow something from