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‘By the way, if we can get you back on the set by four, all will be well.’
    ‘I’m sorry, I can’t go back. Not unless things are different.’
    ‘You signed a contract, you know.’
    ‘I do know. Everyone keeps on pointing it out to me. But I have certain principles, and one of them is to be treated like a human being – not a piece of prize meat. Let me tell you about it. I’m sure, as a woman you will understand.’
    Carey was fascinated by Sunday’s low husky voice, and the way she seemed to pick her words so precisely. She sat back and listened as Sunday related the whole story.
    At the end she felt quite sorry for her. What a bunch of rat finks most guys were. However, it didn’t really merit the walking off the film bit. After all, she wasn’t a star, and only stars could get away with action like that. Besides which, there was still the contract to consider.
    ‘Look, honey, I know it’s tough. But the guys don’t mean any harm, and you did agree to take your clothes off. Now how about if I take you back to the studio, have a word with Abe Stein, and stay there with you?’
    Sunday shook her head stubbornly. ‘No, I am definitely not going back. Not unless I get a formal apology from Mr Stein and a closed set.’
    Carey sighed. ‘You’re asking the impossible.’
    The phone rang and Sunday picked it up. The operator said, ‘The Hollywood Reporter is on the line, dear, and three other calls from papers holding on.’
    She covered the mouthpiece. ‘The newspapers. What shall I tell them?’
    Carey took the phone. ‘Let me deal with it.’ How the hell had they picked it up so quickly? She answered questions smoothly. No, Miss Simmons wasn’t available for comment. Yes, it would all be sorted out. No, she had not had a fight with Jack Milan. Yes, Miss Simmons would be back on the set later on today.
    ‘Why didn’t you tell them the truth?’ Sunday questioned after Carey had dealt with all the calls.
    ‘Because, sweetheart, if you’re smart we’ll take off for the studio right now. You don’t want a lawsuit on your hands, do you? And I gather you have plans for working in this town again. After all, everyone takes off their clothes today, there’s nothing wrong with it.’
    Sunday suddenly laughed. ‘Carey, you’re a nice girl, very helpful, but we obviously are not going to see eye to eye on this, so I don’t think I should waste any more of your time.’
    Carey looked at her in surprise. Was she being dismissed? What a laugh! She had expected to walk in here, deal with some hysterical attention-grabbing actress, dump her back at the studios and that would have been that. Instead she was faced with a girl, who seemed to know exactly what she was doing and went about it in a cool and calm fashion.
    The phone rang again, and this time Sunday picked it up and kept it.
    ‘Yes, this is she. Yes, that is correct. No, I will not be returning unless I get a formal apology from the director and Mr Milan. I feel that as a woman I have every right to be treated with respect and that . . .’
    Carey listened in amazement. She had a funny feeling that Sunday Simmons was going to be a big star. She just felt it.
    The interview was perfect. Carey could see it in print now. Abe Stein and Jack Milan were going to appear as the villains, and Sunday a put-upon innocent.
    Oh boy, she had done her duty for Marshall K. Marshall; now how about looking at it from Sunday’s point of view, and becoming her personal manager?
    This girl was a natural.

 

Chapter Five
    London was going through a once-in-a-blue-moon heatwave, and Charlie was delighted that he had insisted on having a swimming pool built in his mother’s Richmond garden.
    It was the weekend, and he had arrived to spend the day with his children, who were staying with their grandmother for a few days. It seemed to him that Lorna was only too anxious to get rid of Cindy and Sean whenever she could. It was a bloody shame that the judge hadn’t given