I froze, so staggered I could hardly breathe. Surely I couldn’t attempt such an absurd feat at just 20 years old? The executive’s voice cut in: ‘So kid, are you in?’ My inner coward begged me to run away, but then my despotic eight-year-old self took control and answered, in his most grown-up voice: ‘When do we start?’
Cue three months of frantic panic. I knew I needed someone by my side who was unequivocally Team Damian, so I begged my mother, Elizabeth Hurley, to come on board as producer. Then I went to ground, determined to write the best script possible… but coming up blank. Finally, I unearthed a treatment I’d written when I was 17 in the aftermath of losing a close friend to suicide. At the time I’d shelved it, deciding I wasn’t yet ready to tell the story, but in the three-year interim I’d lost a parent, also to suicide, and had been forced to grow up fast. I realised I now had the experience to bring the script to life, and Strictly Confidential was born: the story of a young woman who is haunted by the suicide of her best friend and determined to find answers. Endless rewriting and editing followed, until finally I was satisfied. By the time I finished my final draft, I was emotionally drained and desperately craving some R&R. But of course, we were only just getting started.
Once the script was approved and the project officially greenlit, I was on the next flight out to Nevis, a tiny jewel of an island in the Caribbean, where we were to film. My mother, who had promised during the making of my first ever short film that she’d be in my first real movie, agreed to play a supporting role.