It strikes me that Mary Carr is more survivor than fighter, that most of Doherty’s women are, as figures of resilience, power and conviction. This the thread between her characters, even those with seemingly pronounced differences. Mary stitched to Abigail, to Becky and to Anne. The latter role in The Crown perhaps the most apart’ of all her women, yet so synonymous with Doherty that for years people would be shocked to hear her speak – the sound of Crawley, not Clarence House, coming out of her mouth.

‘It was so surprising to me that people were taken aback,’ she says. ‘But in a way, I’m glad that happened early on, because it fuelled something in me – I want to keep surprising people.’

While Doherty sought surprise and breadth, the industry less so. What was next after playing Princess Anne spectacularly? Playing her again! ‘Everyone was just like: that’s what you do, you are this upper class, reserved human being and that is what we will send you.’

She ultimately rejected them. A ballsy move, I tell Doherty, only a few years out of drama school. But, she insists, ‘you have to. I genuinely wouldn’t want to do the job. I’d get bored and be like, “What’s the point in me?”’

So presumably there were plenty of psychologists coming her way after Adolescence? ‘It’s so strange,’ she nods. ‘People go, “Oh, but that really works, so do you want to make it work again?” Or “is there going to be a season two?”. It was so glorious, like why don’t we just keep it in this lovely little nugget of wonderfulness.’

Over the years, Doherty has learned to ‘turn the volume down on that kind of relentless business-mindedness that will always try and turn your steering wheel’. Trusting her centre, her gut and instinct, on what’s right and what matters. ‘You’ve got to just yank it back to where feels true,’ she says before telling me of being approached down Carnaby Street in London after Adolescence, ‘having a chat with a man with a pram – and he was like, I’ve just had a son,’ she says. ‘And I actually started crying. You’re laser-focused when you’re making this thing but then, a year later, to have a conversation with a stranger about their kid, who’s so grateful for [how] it’s kind of paved the way for them, is just everything you hope for.’ What’s next? If I had to put money on it, I’d wager a queer role, having played her first earlier this year in Mike Bartlett’s play, Unicorn. Realising how ‘we have to normalise it’ how far we’ve still got to go, saying, ‘I’m genuinely like, ‘Where are the queer roles? The stories, where are they?’

She might have to write them, I suggest, Doherty lighting up like Blackpool front in November at the very thought of ‘bringing [these] stories into existence’.

‘Yeah, I’d die happy if I got to do that,’ she beams, a flash, the crackle of a firecracker’s fuse being lit.

‘A Thousand Blows’ season two is coming soon to Disney+