She was sitting poolside with him, scanning page after page of execrable dialogue. ‘How do you know?’ ‘He’s refused to sell my contract to RKO, even though Mr Hughes upped the ante. And he’s cast me in another skid. I’d rather play a Bearded Lady than do this script.’ Lisa tossed aside the typescript that had been delivered earlier. She had taken up temporary residence in David Niven’s house. The quintessential gentleman – who was working in the UK – had kindly told their mutual agent that Lisa was welcome to stay chez lui until she started earning again. Because, ‘compassionate leave’ notwithstanding, since she had turned her back on Hollywood while still under contract, Lisa had been put on suspension, loaned out to second-rate studios and – most humiliatingly of all – asked to test for each potential role. Now she badly needed money. ‘Have you managed to see Mr Stein yet?’ asked Sabu. ‘Finally.