This was the UK version, a highly successful TV series with Rupert Davies as Maigret. The real interest for me was that the exteriors meant a trip to Paris in the wonderful month of September, a perfect antidote for nursing the blues, still fresh from the break up of a relationship. I wore a pale lemon dress from Biba with slightly darker lime tights to match and treated myself to the prettiest cakes I could find. I needed to be frivolous.
The interior scenes were filmed live in the studio in London. We all rushed, silent, invisible, round sets and through doors while other scenes were being shot. In a telephone booth I sobbed and babbled hysterically. The tears were the tears I had not shed after the break-up. This is what actors do, they use themselves. They go deep-sea diving inside. It is a painful, and sometimes dangerous business.
   Immediately after the telephone scene I rushed off to reappear, on time, on my mark (the tape on the floor) serene, dry-eyed, cheeks smooth as glass. My voice did not shake. That is what an actor does.