The ladies all had perfect lipstick and motionless hair, and they didn’t talk much except to bid and score. Their painted nails clicked on the cards; the ice clicked in their glasses; the glasses clicked on the laminated coasters.

It sounds a ghastly place to be brought up in. Soon she is taken in by Anjelica Huston, first under Jack Nicholson’s roof, then to Ryan O’Neal’s house, with its plate-glass windows and giant beds. It’s never a good sign when a man always eats the same food: Ryan O’Neal has tinned tomato soup and a foul temper (Lord Lucan ate lamb chops for lunch every day).

Only at 12 does she learn that her biological father is in fact the historian and writer John Julius Norwich. Lucky him. His daughter is beautiful, clever and independent. She seems blessed, too, with a complete absence of rancour towards all the grown-ups who gave her such an unsettled childhood. This is a remarkable book, one that will interest a much wider readership than the star-struck or the gossip-hungry. Anyone who reads it will hope that Allegra Huston has more books in her.

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