by Susan Lewis
‘Can I give you a lift?’ Michael Grafton offered.
‘Such great timing,’ she told him, and tugged open the passenger door.
He waited for her to fasten her seat belt, then drove on, listening with amused interest as she gave him her first impressions of the Centre.
It wasn’t until they came to a stop in front of the production barn that it occurred to her how their joint arrival was going to appear to those inside. Feeling her cheeks starting to burn, she turned to look at him.
‘Well, I could always kiss you now and really get them going,’ he said drolly, ‘but I should probably take the wiser route and carry on as though everything’s as straightforward and above board as it actually is.’
‘Mum’s going to call you later, after the big meeting,’ Alan was saying as he dropped Neve’s bags into the boot of his car.
Neve nodded vaguely while unravelling the wires of her iPod earplugs.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked, coming to put an arm around her as she stopped next to the passenger door.
Her head went to one side as she stood stiffly in his embrace. She wasn’t really sure what she wanted to say, or do, she only knew that she wanted to go to Lola’s, but at the same time she really, really didn’t.
‘It’s only until the weekend,’ he said softly, ‘and I’ll be by to pick you up from school on Wednesday, just as we planned.’
‘Are you going up to Derbyshire?’ she asked.
‘I don’t think I’ll have the time.’
‘Mum’ll be disappointed.’
‘I know, but I’ll do my best to make it up to her. In the meantime, you’re my main concern. Now tell me what’s the matter, because I know something is.’
She shrugged and shook her head.
‘You want to stay here, is that it?’
She turned away, gazing down the street towards the common.
‘You know I’d be more than happy for you to stay,’ he told her, ‘but if you did, people would take it the wrong way, even though there wouldn’t be anything wrong in it at all.’
She took a breath as though to say something, but whatever words were trying to come out melted back into the confusion inside her.
‘Come on,’ he said, giving her a squeeze, ‘Lola’s cooking for us, remember, so we don’t want to be late.’
She turned her face up to his and gazed solemnly into his eyes. ‘I really love Mum,’ she said shakily.
‘I know you do,’ he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. ‘We both do, and I hope we love each other too.’ He looked at her expectantly.
‘Yes,’ she whispered, and feeling she was about to blush she quickly opened the door and got into the car before he could think she was waiting for him to kiss her, which she was, but there again, maybe she wasn’t. And anyway he couldn’t when they were standing in the middle of the street.
The production barn was even more crowded than Susannah had expected as she and Michael walked in, with people spread out all over the place, slumped in chairs, leaning against desks, perched on filing cabinets and even sitting on the floor. Leaving Michael at the door talking to one of the directors, she crept through the throng to a long wooden bench, close to the front but tucked away to one side, where George Bremell had saved her a space.
‘Quite an entrance,’ he whispered from the corner of his mouth as she sat down beside him.
‘Pure coincidence,’ she whispered back.
‘Tell that to your room-mate.’
Following the direction of his eyes she saw Polly Grace staring at her pointedly, her attractive face soured by an expression of outright disdain.
Susannah treated her to a winning smile, but Polly’s only response was to mutter something to the actress next to her, who gave Susannah a quick look before muttering something back.
Next to her George chuckled, which made Susannah laugh too, in spite of the jarring inside her, then someone began banging a desk for quiet. As the streaming burble of voices receded slowly into silence, all eyes turned towards the space at the front that had been cleared for the most senior members of the team. Michael Grafton took a seat slightly apart from the series producers, directors, script editors and Marlene Wyndham. He was still able to be seen, but suggested by his position that he wasn’t going to be a part of the everyday scene.
Showing impressive agility, and no evident embarrassment, the diminutive Marlene stepped up on to a box that had been strategically placed for her in front of a microphone. After checking it was working with a tap of her fingers, she said, ‘OK. I’m going to start by welcoming you all, and thanking those who aren’t involved in tomorrow’s shoot for coming anyway, so we can all be together for this momentous occasion.’ Pausing as one of the production managers encouraged everyone to give themselves a round of applause, she waited for it die down, then said, ‘I’m not going to make this long, but I thought it would be a good idea to precis what we’re about and how we’re going to work. I apologise in advance to those who’ve heard what I’m about to say before, but better that you hear it twice than not at all.’
She looked up, her owlish eyes travelling around the room as though in search of dissent. Apparently finding none, she continued.
‘You will have met our two producers by now, Alex and Gillian. Gillian will be in charge of the red unit, and Alex the blue. At any one time two episodes will be shooting, while eight more will be in various stages of pre- or post-production. The logistics of this need only concern those in charge of scheduling; as far as the rest of us are concerned, we have only to do as we are told by the scheduling managers. If we do that, everything should tick over like clockwork. Should you find yourself needing to change your days off at any time, you can always make your request and it will be considered. But I want to emphasise this point very strongly indeed, whilst I appreciate that you all have lives outside Larkspur, when you are here this place and the programme will be your life, and if we don’t all pull together we’ll end up in trouble. So please, before you request any change to the schedule, think first how vital it really is, and how your needs are going to impact on everyone else. Sick children – I’m talking measles, flu, stomach upsets etc. – visits to the doctor and dentist, family birthdays, even invitations to appear on chat shows or at some kind of celebrity function, will not rate as important enough to make a change to the schedule. Larkspur and your commitment to it has to have an ongoing priority for you, or I’m afraid you will find yourselves being dropped from the team.’
She looked around the room again, spreading her warning with a meaningful gaze, then continued. ‘As far as all your living arrangements go, if anyone would like to change their current situation the person to talk to is Nadia Wilson who’s around somewhere … Yes, there she is, give us a wave … Nadia is our housekeeping manager, which means she’s responsible for everything to do with your accommodation. She has a small army of domestic engineers, as she likes to call them, who will take care of your laundry – bedding, towels etc., not personal items – and the cleaning of your rooms, but they are not cooks, drivers or personal shoppers. If you want to enter into a private arrangement with any of them for additional duties, that’s for you to work out – and to pay for.
‘On the subject of money, there is a cash office here in the production barn, but it is for programme use only. If you need any personal money there are banks in Matlock with twenty-four-hour cash dispensers.’
Looking down at her notes, she slid the top page to the bottom, quickly scanned the next sheet and looked up again. ‘Regarding access to the sets: this is a secure site, and no one who is not a part of the Larkspur unit will be allowed anywhere inside the perimeter without having first obtained the necessary permits. These can be acquired through the press office, so if any of you have friends or non-immediate family who’d like to visit, please don’t bring them without going through the official channels or they’ll be escorted back out of the valley. Yes, you can laugh,’ she said as a titter went round
, ‘but it’ll be highly embarrassing for both you and your guests should it happen, so be warned.’
She looked down again, flicked on, and then said, ‘This next point of business concerns the actors, probably Susannah most of all. Fan mail will be dealt with by Cordelia, who’s also our telephonist, where are you, Cordelia?’ A plump, pretty girl stood up at the back and waved. ‘She already has a good stock of signed photographs,’ Marlene went on, ‘and we can keep them coming as the series unfolds. Susannah has a photo shoot scheduled with Silver for Wednesday after noon, I believe?’ Receiving a nod from Jayna, she continued. ‘Anyone wishing to deal with their own mail is welcome to, but I cannot stress this strongly enough, if anything appears even remotely off colour, or contains any kind of threat, veiled or otherwise, you are to give it straight to Nadia, or one of the producers, or to me. Most communications of this kind turn out to be harmless, but where personal security is concerned we can’t be too careful.’
She consulted her notes again, scanned to the end and then said, ‘OK, to finish up I want to make three quick points concerning democracy, diplomacy and dedication. First: as far as I’m aware everyone present is a member of the appropriate union governing our industry – if that’s not the case, then you shouldn’t be here. Second: we’re going to be living in very close quarters with one another, so a thought or two before any angry explosion would serve everyone very well indeed. Third: I personally will not tolerate any less than one hundred per cent dedication to this series. We have invested in you, so in return I expect you to invest in us. There are always going to be things you disagree with, or that upset you, or that might seem unjust in some way. If that proves the case, my door is open, so are Alex’s and Gillian’s. Be assured, should any of you decide to go to the press with a gripe before coming to us, you will find your contract under negative renegotiation when the time comes. We must all work together, and I believe we can, so please don’t let petty grievances lead you to make a mistake that we’ll all end up regretting.’
After a final check of her notes she turned towards Michael Grafton, who said something Susannah couldn’t quite catch, then returning to the mike she said, ‘Michael’s just reminded me that we’ve changed location for the press screening of the first two episodes. It’s now going to happen in the viewing theatre here, at the Centre. We’ve moved it from the London venue, because so many of you will be working that day it seemed to make sense for the press to come to you, rather than the other way round.’
As everyone nodded agreement and approval she stepped down off her box, then the room fell silent again as Michael came to take over the mike.
‘Since Marlene’s covered just about all bases,’ he said, ‘it’s only left for me to say that what we’re hoping to achieve is a series that we can all be extremely proud of. Everything that can be done behind the scenes has been done, it’s now up to you to turn Larkspur into a twice-weekly, highly rated, sometimes shocking, but regularly all-round entertaining drama series.’ He smiled, and Susannah felt her hero-worship go up several more levels. ‘Welcome, congratulations, and thank you for being here,’ he said. ‘Now, I believe drinks are being served in the recreation barn. Yes, I’m told they are …’
‘On the house,’ one of the production managers announced over the mike, ‘but only for tonight. After that you’re buying, and there will be no tabs.’
Half an hour later, finding herself in the thick of the throng, a virtually untouched glass of champagne in one hand and a barely nibbled vol-au-vent in the other, Susannah could hardly have felt more humbled or ecstatic. Everyone she spoke to from the crew and production teams was being so friendly and welcoming that she might have known them all her life, and already she could sense a spirit of camaraderie starting to weave its way around them all. It didn’t matter that Polly was being bitchy and petty, she’d get over it eventually, and besides, to imagine she’d be liked by everyone would be self-delusional, or just plain arrogant.
Seeing Michael Grafton watching her from the group of people surrounding him, she smiled and raised her glass. He raised his too, but as she went to take a sip something inside her drew back. She really didn’t have the stomach for it tonight, or anything else come to that. The pressure was on for tomorrow, and right now she was feeling it intensely.
‘Are you OK?’ Michael asked when he finally made his way over to her. ‘You’re looking a little pale.’
‘Nerves,’ she confessed with a laugh. ‘Just thank God I’m not in the first shots of the day tomorrow, because I’m not sure how well I’m going to sleep tonight.’
Smiling, he said, ‘I guess your stunt double will be galloping Silver into the valley for the series opening?’
She nodded. ‘I’ll be taking over for the mid and close shots.’
Appearing to envisage it, he said, ‘I think together you and that horse are going to make quite an impact.’
Deciding not to tell him about the Lady Godiva offer, she said, ‘Will you be there for the first action call in the morning?’
Swallowing some champagne, he said, ‘I’m afraid not. I have to be in London for a meeting, but the rushes are being sent down the line to me at the end of the day.’
She nodded and tried again to sip her drink. Though she managed a small mouthful, her insides almost immediately rebelled.
‘It’ll pass,’ he told her, seeming to understand what was happening. ‘You’ll be fine.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ she said, forcing a smile.
‘I know I am.’ Then, after a moment’s thought, ‘I’ll be back again on Friday. Perhaps I can take you for dinner, if you’re not rushing off, and you can tell me how your first week has gone.’
Though she’d have loved nothing more than to accept, she knew how crushed Alan would be if she didn’t keep her promise to take the six o’clock train. Worse was how he’d feel if she told him why she was going to be late. ‘Were it any other day I’d love to,’ she assured him earnestly, ‘but after being away all week my family will be waiting to see me. On the other hand,’ she went on carefully, ‘if something happens and we have to shoot on Saturday, I’ll still be here on Friday so …’
‘Let’s speak later in the week,’ he said, and giving her hand a gentle squeeze he moved back into the crowd, leaving her to wonder how on earth she was going to get through the rest of the evening without anyone else guessing quite how terrified she actually was.
Chapter Nineteen
THE FOLLOWING MORNING at eight o’clock sharp Susannah stepped out of the lodge to find the unit bus waiting at the gate, already warmed up and ready to transport her to the Centre. Since the crew and stunt riders had all risen much earlier to make a six o’clock start, and she and George Bremell were the only main cast required for the first scene of the day, there was no one else on board the bus apart from the driver.
As far as she knew Polly was still sleeping. Certainly there had been no sign of her while Susannah was preparing to leave, a circumstance for which Susannah could only feel grateful. With such a fist of nerves inside her it was all she could do to breathe, never mind try to make small talk with someone who detested her. No doubt Polly would show up before too much longer though, since everyone was planning to be up at the gallops for the camera’s first roll of the day. By then Susannah would be in full costume and make-up, ready to take over from the stunt double who, even now, would be rehearsing the opening shot of the very first episode.
Gazing out at the valley as the bus trundled through the trees and the driver regaled her with a weather report, Susannah began wondering if they’d actually be able to turn over with so much mist hanging over the fields.
‘Oh, Jane, the director, was that excited when I drove her up top an hour ago,’ the driver told her in his gruff Yorkshire accent. ‘Says it’s just the sort of atmosphere she wants, seeing Marianne emerging through the fog on that horse. She was a bit worried in case the rain comes on though, which it’s forecast to, but not till around midday
according to local radio. Right you are then, lass, this is your stop,’ he said, pulling up in the stableyard. ‘There’s our Carrie waiting to take you in.’
‘Hi, good morning,’ a rosy-cheeked, curly-haired girl cried cheerily as she yanked open the door for Susannah to climb down. ‘I’m Carrie, the third assistant for blue unit today. I’ll take you straight through to your dressing room so you can get yourself settled in, then I’ll come back to collect you for make-up. Jane asked me to say good morning from her, and if there’s anything you need, or want to ask, we can get her on one of the walkie-talkies, or on her mobile.’
Warming to the very young and bouncy girl, Susannah stepped out into the damp morning air and followed her in through a double swing door that was part of a newly constructed block behind the main house. This was the first time she’d been to the dressing rooms, and she was quite taken aback to find that hers was so plush and cosy, with a large corner sofa angled around a square glass table, a smart Berber carpet, a plasma screen covering most of one wall and a hanging rail up against another, crammed with various costumes and tack.
‘Becky’s already taken your riding gear to press it,’ Carrie told her. ‘She’ll be along in a minute to help you dress. I just need to let her know you’ve arrived. Coffee’s there, in the flasks, and tea. If you want a full breakfast you can get it up at the gallops where the caterers have set up.’
At the mention of breakfast Susannah’s stomach started to churn. ‘Actually, where’s the nearest loo?’ she asked faintly.
‘Oh, there’s one right through here,’ Carrie informed her, pushing open a door that was partially hidden by the clothes rail. ‘Shower, washbasin and WC. OK, I’ll leave you to it for now, and come back in about twenty minutes.’
After she’d gone Susannah felt her nausea subside, and turned to survey her reflection in a large spotlit mirror. Seeing how haunted and anxious she looked filled her with a sinking dismay, but she could do this, she reminded herself firmly. Everyone was depending on her, and she’d rather die than let them down – at the same time she couldn’t help wondering what on earth she was doing here. This was too much for her. She’d never played a part this big before, never mind had to carry so much responsibility for a programme’s success. She wondered why the enormity of it all was only coming home to her now. Why hadn’t she realised sooner just how huge an undertaking this was going to be? She could have prepared for it then, psyched herself up for the challenge and been ready to school herself through these terrible nerves.