When I auditioned for The Lost Treasure of King Arthur it hadn’t been glamorous at all, at least not the first time. We all had to wait in a grubby corridor above a shop in Soho and then troop one by one into a whitewashed dance studio where a panel of people who I thought were utterly terrifying (so terrifying that I actually threw up) were waiting for me. So when the day of the audition arrived, I was prepared for it to be more or less the same. Not in a dance studio above a shop, but gut-wrenchingly terrifying. And in a funny kind of way, the terrifying part was the only thing that was certain about the whole experience. Because I certainly didn’t know how to feel about it. We had only been in Hollywood a little while, and though it was wonderful and exciting in so many ways, it had been eventful enough for me already. And now there was a steely glint in Mum’s eye and a kind of determination to change everything, including my life, that I had seen somewhere before but couldn’t quite put my finger on.
