Bathtime

Maxwell Dandy peels off the facemask and blinks into the bathroom mirror. Widening his eyes, he feels the remnants of the mud crack in the grooves of his forehead. He wipes them away with a fluffy white hotel hand towel, rolls his shoulders and peels off the dressing gown.

It has been a long day's filming.

The bath is nearly full behind him - he reaches out through the steam and turns the taps to off. The salts fizz in the water below and spread out into the bathroom air, as if it is being hot-boxed with Friar's Balsam.

Maxwell dips a toe fearfully below the surface, then, with growing confidence, a foot and a calf. He reaches across, opens the window a crack and commits his other foot to the tub.

He lowers his bottom below the surface and sighs as the water crackles against his skin.

There is a telephone beside his head. He reaches across and dials nought for reception. Oysters and champagne will be delivered to his suite in twenty-five minutes time. He wonders belatedly whether Janine likes shellfish.