I stare at him.
‘Not easy to put it on the page. Big risk.’
Is that a criticism? I can’t tell. Russell talking like this about my work is not what I expected and I am utterly out of my depth.
‘See, I put my characters through the wringer constantly. Physically, mentally, occasionally even emotionally. I kill off the ones they love; I threaten their own existence. And I get flak for not caring about them, but that’s wrong. I do care. But putting it on the page scares the living crap out of me. You know why? Because it’s too close to home. Hands up, I’ll admit it. So the care is hidden behind twists and shocks and extended car chases.’ He stabs my script with his index finger. ‘This? Takes balls bigger than mine to write it.’
Not sure I’ll use that as a pull-quote… But it’s the biggest compliment.
‘So, any advice?’
‘Be this brave more often. Although I get the feeling this is a standalone?’ I feel like he’s looking through to my bones. ‘Evie and Seth are great characters. Bit battered by life, bit world-weary, very funny. I feel like I know them.’
This is not the time for a blush to appear. I will my skin to behave. ‘Thanks.’
‘But – your ending…’ He grimaces.
‘What? What about it?’
‘It’s too vague. Too ambiguous.’
‘I… I was going for ambiguous. Let the viewer decide.’
‘They’ll hate it, trust me. You need an ending. Doesn’t have to be a happy-ever-after or have all the threads tied up. But it needs to be authentic. It has to be right for Evie and Seth.’
‘What if I don’t know what their ending is?’ I ask.
Idiot! What did I say that for?
One side of Russell’s mouth lifts. ‘Then write the ending you would like.’
I realise I’m holding my breath.
Chapter Fifty-Five
OTTY
Okay, I’m scared now.
Joe looks like he’s seen a ghost when he comes back into the writers’ room. Of course, he’s all jokes and bravado when we look up from our work, but I saw him before. Something Russell said must have really spooked him.
‘Was it that bad?’ I ask when he sits by me and downs a whole mug of cold coffee without realising it was mine.
‘What? No. Just, you know, the whole showing-it-to-someone-for-the-first-time thing: Here’s my brand new baby! It’s perfect! Er, its ears could do with pinning back and look at its nose!’
His dubious-accented comedy voices crack me up – which, coincidentally, is just what I need now my nerves are revving up for my consultation.
‘I bet Russell loved it. How were the notes?’
‘Insightful.’
I check my watch. Five minutes to go, but I want to be there early. ‘I’d better go in, then.’
Joe smiles, but he looks exhausted. ‘Look, I might grab a taxi home, get a start on dinner. Is that okay?’
‘Fine by me. No point you hanging around here for an hour.’
He smiles. ‘You’ll be great, Otts. Look at how far you’ve come since you started here. Russ adores you.’
‘No, he doesn’t.’
‘Yes, he does. What do you think we spend all those circuits of the eleventh floor talking about?’
I love that he’s trying to make me feel better. ‘Go on. Back to the kitchen with you, wench! Prepare our feast!’
‘Certainly, Lady Perry,’ he intones, doffing his imaginary cap. ‘Now go in there and knock him dead.’
I risk a brief hug before I hurry out of the room.
I’m surprised to find Russell waiting for me at the door of his office. When I make a swift check of my watch, his booming laugh makes me jump.
‘Don’t worry, I’m early, you’re not late. In you come, Ms Perry.’
My nerves swell as I sit opposite him. It isn’t that I don’t think my spec script will be up to scratch – it’s easily the best thing I’ve written alone. But knowing what I know about Fraser’s plan to leave Ensign Media for its biggest rival makes me feel like a traitor. I haven’t said I’m going with him, although Fraser’s pretty insistent and it is a great opportunity. But knowing that makes me complicit. It isn’t my place to tell Russell, but if he asks me straight out, can I lie to him?
‘So, we’ve gone all supernatural,’ he says, sliding a copy of my script in front of him. He’s made a lot of notes on the first page, I notice. ‘Talk me through it.’
I pack away my butterflies and beam my brightest. ‘I wanted a fresh take on the revenge thriller and I liked the emotional side that Lizzie brings. She literally has nothing to lose because she’s already lost the only person that matters.’
‘I’ve got to say, my first thought when I saw the pitch was that this could turn out to be a cosy-crime remake of Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased). But seeing the script, I’m reassured. It’s edgy, it’s surprisingly violent and unapologetically tense.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Your protagonist is what fascinates me. Lizzie is loss, isn’t she? Loss personified.’
I hadn’t thought of it like that, but it thrills me to know he’s seen it in my main character. ‘I wanted to show the power of grief, but in a different context. So Lizzie discovers her ability to summon the dead only at the point when grief consumes her.’
‘And in the true fashion of superheroes, it’s an unwanted gift.’
‘Exactly!’ I’m excited now. I was worried Russell would dismiss my script as too fantastical. ‘I was thinking of characters like Dr Bruce Banner and how he battles his ability to become the Hulk. It often comes from pain – like a spider bite for Peter Parker. It’s almost as if pain and loss of normal life to some extent is necessary to unlock these gifts.’
‘Pain and loss are powerful motivators. Also love.’
He isn’t smiling, but I feel like what he just said was done kindly. ‘Love can be both.’
He nods. ‘I like it, Otty. I think you can bring out Lizzie’s battle a lot more. Be braver with it. The whole with great power comes great responsibility idea. And her sadness, the hopelessness she ultimately faces.’
‘Okay. Thank you.’
‘It feels very personal, if you don’t mind me saying?’
‘In what way?’
He leans back. ‘A very recent loss. Or experience of the pain of love.’
Why do I suddenly feel cornered? ‘I tried my best to make it authentic.’
Russell’s eyebrows rise. ‘You succeeded. So what I want to know is, if this moved to a series, would we see redemption for Lizzie?’
A series. I don’t think I dared think that far ahead, but what if it happened?
‘I don’t know,’ I begin, willing words to appear as I speak. ‘I don’t think it’s as easy as that. She might find Dan’s murderer, and there may be justice in that, but she’s still lost him. And the only way she can see him is by facing that loss head-on.’
He’s quiet for a while and I wonder if I’ve just scuppered my chances. Then he stands and I follow.
‘Great work, kid. Don’t be scared to push this. See where it goes.’
‘I will. Thanks, Russell.’
We walk to the door. And I’m struck by how much I’ve changed. If I’d had a one-to-one meeting with him when I first arrived at Ensign, I would have been too scared to even breathe. Now I’ve just held my own in our meeting and not given it a second thought.
‘You know, when I started working here, I was terrified of you,’ I say.
‘Me? I’m a pussycat, Otty, you know that.’
I laugh. ‘I know it now. I didn’t then. Thank you – for taking a punt on me. I had so little experience and I didn’t think anyone would give me a chance.’
‘I would have been a nutter not to. Talent means everything, as far as I’m concerned, more than experience or contacts.’ He seems genuinely moved by what I’ve said. ‘Style you can learn. Polish you can acquire. I’m just glad Joe took you under his wing, helped you find your fe
et.’
Joe? What’s this got to do with Joe? ‘He’s been very encouraging.’
‘I know. I’ve loved hearing about your progress every time he’s reported back.’
‘Sorry?’
‘I asked him. To help you and keep me posted. He’s been doing it ever since.’
We’ve reached the door of his office now. My mouth has gone dry. Joe’s been talking to Russell about me? Behind my back?
What do you think we spend all those circuits of the eleventh floor talking about?
He just joked about it, didn’t he?
Russell is chuckling to himself, completely unaware of my growing horror. ‘And I have to say, him persuading me to let the two of you write together was a stroke of genius. My rough Brummie diamond and my star writer – killer combination!’
‘Rough…?’
I’ve done this on my own, not because Joe held a door open for me.
‘In the lack of experience sense. I’m not suggesting all working-class Brummies are rough.’
Working-class. I think back to my application, the sneaky mention I’d made of my background because it seemed to be something people were looking for. I didn’t even think that would help my cause, only that it was worth mentioning.
‘You know, you should play up on that. The class thing. Commissioners love it right now. Own voices stuff is big. Not that I’d let anyone else have you, mind. You and Joe are Ensign’s major weapon.’
‘Well, I like to think I’m a good writer and that’s what counts,’ I say far too defensively given I’m saying it to my boss.
‘Of course. And it’s been a joy to see Joe shape you into the writer you are.’
Is that what he thinks of me? That I’m a product of Joe Carver?
And then I start to remember things other people told me about Joe in the beginning. Josh warned me Joe was more involved with Russell than you think… And Daphne said he had an agenda… I’d dismissed them both at the time. But what if they were right?
I feel like all the foundations I’ve built my trust on are starting to crumble. Russell is leading me out, singing Team O-Joe’s praises, but I don’t want to hear it anymore.
Did Joe use me? Did he take me on to score points with Russell?
And has everything he’s done been for himself?
Chapter Fifty-Six
JOE
I’ve been thinking about what Russell said and I’m going to do it. I’m going to tell Otty I love her.
When she reads my script on decision day, I’m going to say it.
I know she’s with Fraser, but I don’t think she’s happy. Things have been off with them lately and while she won’t tell me what’s happened, I’m pretty sure Langham is behind it.
She might guess Seth and Evie are me and her, but even if she does, what I tell her afterwards will leave her in no doubt. I just keep thinking about how it’s been between us lately, like we were regaining some old ground. Writing the script has only made me more certain: the reason we bounce back every time is that we want to.
But what if she doesn’t feel the same? I have no answer for that, except we’ve survived worse. But my gut is insisting that won’t be the case. I don’t think it’s just me who can’t stop thinking about our night.
The sound of her key in the lock makes my heart jump. I stand up from the sofa where I’ve been sitting. My chest is tight with impatient breath. I don’t know what to do with my hands all of a sudden. I train my eyes on the front door, the shaft of streetlight stretching into the hall from the almost dark evening as it opens, her shadow stepping into it.
All I can do is watch. Breathe. Wait.
At first, she doesn’t see me; her body in shadow as she unwinds her scarf, shrugs off her jacket. There’s a serene measure to her movement, a beautiful ballet performed in the frame of the doorway.
I should say something, but my heart swells into the space where words should be. So I drink in the sight of her – this stunning soul who tipped my world.
Then she turns and the fading light from the window falls across her face.
And everything changes.
Wide streaks of water stain her cheeks. Gone is her smile, stolen by pain. Her brow sets when our eyes meet, wild hazel damnation aimed straight at me. I open my mouth to say something but I don’t get the chance.
‘I believed you.’
It hangs heavy in the air.
‘Otty?’
‘I believed you when you said you believed in me. When you told me I was the only person you could work with. When you begged me to stay…’ Her voice falters. She swallows hard and stabs at the tears with her sleeve as she nears me. ‘Lies, Joe. All of it. You never wanted me. You just wanted to score points with Russell…’
‘No…’
‘He never believed in me, either. It was all you. He hired me to tick a box and then he told you to turn me into the writer he wanted. And you did it, because you wanted to win.’
I can’t believe she thinks that’s true. ‘Where is this coming from?’
‘Russell told me. So don’t pretend you don’t know. All those long walks you took with him, you were reporting on me then, weren’t you?’
‘Otts, no. It wasn’t like that…’
Her stare bores into me. ‘Deny it, then. Deny you were talking about me.’
What do I say? I can’t deny it, even if it wasn’t like what she’s accusing me of. ‘We did, but…’
She blinks and more tears chase the salt-trails. ‘Every idea I had, Russell gave you credit for. I’ve dismissed it for months because I thought it was just his way. And you let him believe it was your influence, not my skill.’
‘I never said that, Otty, you have to believe me…’ I reach out but she bats my hand away.
‘Don’t touch me! Even that, Joe… Even that night…’
‘It meant the world to me. I never planned it… Otty, I would never use you.’ I’m slipping, panic threatening to overwhelm me. I have to pull this back. ‘Just take a moment, okay? Sit down with me and we can—’
She’s inches from me now, hurt and fury seething from her body. ‘Third strike, Joe. You can’t come back from this. You don’t get another chance to hurt me.’
Strikes, lies, schemes… What does it all mean? I’m confused by her accusation, shocked by her anger and lost in the tsunami surge engulfing us. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. This isn’t the ending I wanted…
Frustration balls up within me. ‘Three strikes? You keep saying three strikes, but you only accused me of two. I apologised to Fraser for telling him about us, and now this with Russell – which isn’t anything like you think. Where’s the third?’
Her breath snaps in staccato bursts, her body so close to mine that I can almost feel the shakes that rock her as she struggles for control. ‘When you decided sleeping with me was a joke.’
I blink.
This isn’t happening.
How can she think that? ‘I never said it was a joke. It was—’
‘You said it was the biggest mistake and you laughed about it.’ A sob escapes and her hand flies to her mouth. ‘And then you told me I should laugh about it, too.’
The joke.
I suggested it. I said we could do it. We did do it, over and over in the weeks following, as we worked a way back from where we’d fallen. I wanted to hold on to what we had, to find a way through it all. Seen from Otty’s side, it looks damning. Hell, it all does. I agreed to mentor her to make Russell see me in a good light. I reported back because it kept him happy. And it doesn’t matter that every time I fought for him to recognise Otty’s own brilliance because she never saw it. How can I defend what she didn’t see?
‘I never laughed at you.’ She’s shaking her head but I carry on. I can’t let her think I used her. How could I use the woman I love? ‘I never used you. I couldn’t…’ I reach out and catch her hand, hanging on to it when she tries to pull away. ‘Listen to me. I love you Otty. I love you.’
> She looks away. ‘No, Joe.’
‘And that night that you say you can’t remember? I remember it.’
‘Stop…’
They aren’t Seth’s lines anymore. There’s no time to let Otty read the truth I wrote into the script – into our story. This has to be Joe now. I have to tell her the truth. ‘I said I didn’t but I lied. I remember, Otty. I remember all of it. All of you.’
She’s pulling away, her sobs no longer contained. ‘Please, stop…’
‘And I can’t stop thinking about it. About us. I’ve tried and I can’t. It wasn’t a mistake; it was what I wanted. What we wanted.’
Otty closes her eyes. And when they open again, I hardly recognise her.
‘I’m leaving.’
The steel is back, her defence raised, shutting me out.
‘Did you hear me? I love you.’
‘You need to find someone for my room.’
‘Otty, no…’ My hand falls from hers.
‘I’m moving in with Fraser. And as soon as the decision is announced for the spec scripts, we’ll be leaving for London.’
The air is snatched from me. ‘What? Why?’
‘Exemplar Productions want us. I’m going to be a lead writer.’
‘Does Russell know?’
She blinks. ‘I imagine you can tell him all about it next time you take a walk. Make sure you tell him it was your idea. I’d hate him to think it was mine.’
And then she turns her back on me and walks away. Sure, measured steps power her out of the room. And out of my life.
The door slams.
The house falls silent.
It’s over.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
OTTY
I don’t want to leave Ensign. But Russell never believed in me on my own.
I don’t want to leave the house. But there’s no room for me now.
I don’t want to lose Joe. But I never had him, whatever he says.
Everything I thought I’d achieved, every counted blessing I’d folded into my jar, gone. I was an idiot for ever believing them real.
But Fraser loves me. He’s been pressing me for a decision because he can’t imagine the next step of his life without me in it. He hasn’t used me to gain favour with anyone, or laughed away the nights we’ve spent together. And he hasn’t used I love you like a weapon when he was losing a fight.
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