by Jemma Forte
‘Hello, Pamela,’ said Angelica softly, shame flitting across her face, and something else, something that was far harder to read.
‘Jessica,’ said Pam, ignoring Angelica completely. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Why don’t you give me a ring later when you’re free?’
‘I don’t think that’s necessary,’ said Graydon, standing up and pushing his chair back. ‘Come on, Angelica, we should leave Jessica to it, she obviously has important things to discuss and we need to get going anyway. Besides, I have that meeting soon.’
‘But I would rather stay a bit longer. I haven’t seen Jessica for –’
At this point Graydon shot Angelica a pointed look and Jessica couldn’t help but think that he’d been waiting for an excuse to escape all along. Her mother instantly backtracked. ‘You’re probably right. OK, well, we’ll speak soon, darling.’
Jessica couldn’t believe how quickly her mother was bailing. She opened her mouth to protest, but before she’d had time to even form a sentence, Angelica had already kissed her on both cheeks, gathered up her things and scarpered, Graydon holding on tightly to her elbow in a way that made Jessica more than a little uncomfortable. He was ushering her out so fast they didn’t even notice the person who was trailing behind them, clearly after an autograph.
As they disappeared from sight, Pam’s frown was thunderous. Jessica gulped and then blinked, hard.
‘I’m so sorry, love,’ said Pam, sounding grave. ‘If I’d known she was here I never would have come. I know you haven’t seen your mum for ages and now I’ve ruined things.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Jessica over-brightly.
‘It’s not,’ said Pam, shaking her head. ‘Honestly, every time the going gets tough, she can’t help herself, can she? She just takes the easy option and runs. And who’s that gorilla she was with?’
Jessica didn’t answer. She just stared hard into the middle distance, trying to ignore the feeling that she’d been abandoned. Pam’s heart twanged with sympathy and regret. ‘Sorry, love, that was rude. Look, let’s forget about her, shall we? I came here to tell you some good news anyway.’
‘Really?’ said Jessica, trying hard to shrug off her knee-jerk reaction to the whole experience, which was to immediately seek out a therapist and book in for multiple sessions. ‘What is it?’
‘Well,’ said Pam, lowering herself into the seat that Angelica had previously occupied. ‘I spoke to my friend Jean last night and I may have mentioned about how you were looking for work. Anyway, she phoned this morning and apparently her daughter’s friend has got a niece who’s looking for an assistant. She’s called Kerry, I think she said, and she works on The Bradley Mackintosh Show. Anyway, I’ve got her direct line,’ said Pam excitedly, ‘so you can give her a call and try and get an interview.’
Jessica let the carrot of possibility dangle for a couple of seconds before making a grab for it. ‘Do you mean the show that was on the other night? The one I thought Vincent had been on before?’
‘That’s the one,’ said Pam eagerly. ‘Obviously the pay would be appalling and you might hate it, working with all those media types …’
‘Oh.’
‘But it’s a job, a proper one, and if you could just get an interview then I bet you’d get it, love.’
Her enthusiasm was infectious and Jessica started to feel hope and excitement bubble quietly in her belly then spread throughout her like an injection of positivity. She wasn’t going to let her disappointment in her mother ruin this opportunity.
‘Oh my gosh, thank you so much, Pam,’ she said, as the news sank in. Then, without stopping to think about it, Jessica got up and walked round the table. Reaching Pam, she bent down, grabbed her and pulled her into a great big hug, which took her aunt quite by surprise. These days her friend Jean was the closest person to her, but hugging and the like wasn’t something they went in for a great deal.
‘Love you,’ said Jessica into her aunt’s large chest, breathing in her Guerlain scent.
‘Love you too,’ said Pam, feeling really quite moved. ‘Now, let’s make that call.’
9
The next day Jessica sat on the tube, armed only with an A to Z and the new Oyster card her aunt had recommended that she buy. She felt proud of herself. If only her mother could see her now, she thought, travelling towards White City on her own, having managed to navigate the route without asking anyone, all the way from Green Park tube. It felt like a real achievement, though she had to ignore the usual side dish of pain she felt whenever her thoughts turned to Angelica. She banished her mother from her mind and thought of her father instead, emotionally a far easier point of reference. He, too, would be proud. In LA, she’d never taken public transport anywhere, so it felt doubly impressive somehow, and for the first time in her life she felt a real sense of independence.
As the carriage trundled along its tunnel, Jessica decided the tube was the most fabulous place to people watch. In LA, only the lowliest members of society – gang members, people with live chickens under their arms and illegal immigrants – dared to get the buses. Here, however, it seemed a complete cross-section of society chose to get around the city by public transport, which was quite liberating, as was the fact that there were obviously no hard and fast rules about how to dress here either. In LA her friends tended to all wear variations on the same unimaginative themes. Jogging bottoms, jeans, Ugg boots, sneakers or flip-flops by day, taking it up a gear by night, but with the aim still being to look as if they weren’t trying too hard – the reality being that they would have spent at least three hours on grooming that week alone.
Almost before she was ready for the journey to end, the train glided into White City. Here she was and, the minute she left the station, there it was. The BBC.
Jessica gulped. Working in television might not be her heart’s desire, but if it was the only job she could find for now then where better to start? The BBC was world famous and, as she took in how vast the circular-shaped building was, she could feel her heart beating harder than it probably should. Feeling very nervous, she crossed the road, remembering just in time to look right first. She entered the building via glass revolving doors that led her into a huge reception area and approached one of the desks.
‘Can I help you?’ asked a woman in uniform.
‘Yes, please. I’ve got an interview at eleven with Kerry Taylor on The Bradley Mackintosh Show.’
‘And your name is?’
‘Jessica Gr– Bender.’
‘Grebender?’
‘Bender.’
The woman gave her a look that could only be described as wary and called through on the phone. ‘Hello, I’ve got a Miss Bender in reception to see Kerry? Take a seat,’ she said, not bothering to look up again.
‘Thanks,’ said Jessica, going over to the black leather seats in the middle of the space and picking up a copy of Ariel, the BBC’s in-house magazine.
The reception was full of people coming and going, and after realizing that Ariel was of no interest to her whatsoever, and that even if it had been her nerves were preventing her from reading it, Jessica busied herself watching all the comings and goings instead. Briefly she worried whether she might be dressed too smartly. She was wearing flat pumps with tight, dark denim Capri pants and a navy-and-white striped fitted T-shirt, so nothing over the top, and yet compared to some people who were brandishing their passes at the security guy and striding in she looked downright ‘put together’.
Just then, a woman who clearly wasn’t letting size be any obstacle for the clothes she chose to wear appeared within her eye line.
‘Are you Jessica?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ said Jessica, leaping to her feet and pumping her hand enthusiastically.
‘Nice to meet you,’ the woman said less enthusiastically and extracting her hand. ‘I’m Kerry. Do you want to follow me?’
‘Sure,’ Jessica said eagerly. ‘It’s really nice to meet you. I was so pleased when you said you’d see m
e. I guess you’ve probably seen a lot of people?’
‘Er … yes,’ replied Kerry. She knew the girl was only being friendly but she had indeed been seeing people all morning, so didn’t want to talk more than was strictly necessary.
Nerves racing, Jessica followed after Kerry through the maze of corridors that wound themselves around the building until they reached a bank of lifts. As if to make up for her earlier dismissal of Jessica’s attempt to engage with her, Kerry spoke up suddenly.
‘So, you said on the phone that you don’t have a great deal of experience in TV.’
‘I don’t,’ she agreed sincerely. ‘Though I guess most people who can afford to work for so little probably don’t, right?’
‘Um, kind of,’ replied Kerry, who was a little thrown by this comment. Though, in fairness, what Jessica had just said was pretty close to the mark. Quite a few of the people she’d seen so far were graduates with names like Hugo and Fenella, who clearly had parents well off enough to support them while they started out on a pittance.
‘Still,’ went on Kerry, ‘with no experience, I’m wondering what drove you to apply. You don’t want to be a presenter, do you?’
‘Gee, no,’ said Jessica emphatically. ‘Actually, I couldn’t think of anything worse.’
Kerry nodded. Well, that had to be a point in her favour. The last candidate, a hideously bubbly girl called Bonnie, had bought her showreel with her. Kerry didn’t do bubbly and she certainly wasn’t going to accommodate anyone who’d be treating the job as one long audition. Bonnie had been shown the door quite quickly.
‘To be honest,’ said Jessica, keen to fill the silence that had descended again, ‘I’ve never particularly dreamed of working in TV, but I just really like the idea of working in an office.’
At this, Kerry looked taken aback and deeply unimpressed. ‘Do you know how many people would love to be seen for this job?’ she demanded to know. ‘Or have any idea what an amazing opportunity this is? Just because I don’t want some wannabe working for me doesn’t mean I don’t want someone with an interest in the business.’
‘Oh, right, of course,’ said Jessica, blushing red as the lift finally arrived. They got in. ‘I don’t know why I said that, actually. What I probably meant was that I would enjoy the challenge of being organized and helpful.’
Kerry was overwhelmed with irritation. She’d spent the last fortnight or so whittling down thousands of CVs to what she’d thought was going to be a promising pile. Yet, so far, she’d spent a crappy morning talking to idiots, all of whom were totally wrong for one reason or another. Too earnest, too ambitious, too inexperienced, too shy or too annoying. Now, this American chick (who knew someone who knew her aunt or something) was acting as if she was so cool that she wouldn’t be even a little bit excited about the people she would meet should she get the job. There was a balance, surely?
As they travelled upwards, Kerry tried to decide what to do. Should she just tell this strange American pretender to piss off and stop wasting her time? Then again, could she really afford to spend more time trying to find people to interview? Due to the paltry budget she’d been given, it wasn’t as if she had hundreds of great experienced people clamouring to earn no money. Maybe she should just bite the bullet and have a chat with this girl. The two of them eyeballed each other grimly, both wondering what their next move should be.
‘Right,’ said Kerry as the doors glided open. ‘Here we are then, so I suppose you may as well come and have a chat, though you might want to at least pretend you’re vaguely interested in TV or we can just call it a day now. Personally, I really don’t care much either way.’
Jessica gulped.
‘Seriously,’ said Kerry, gathering steam. ‘I know the pay’s a bit crap, but we are talking about one of our flagship light entertainment shows so if you can’t be arsed then just say so, because frankly I’m teetering on the edge of telling you to do one.’
Wow. Nobody had ever spoken to Jessica like that before in her life. Bizarrely, she’d quite enjoyed it. Maybe she was the employee equivalent of a masochist?
‘I am interested,’ she said calmly. ‘Really I am.’
‘Come on then,’ said Kerry. ‘But no more bullshit, right?’
And with that she turned left down the corridor, Jessica following meekly. Before long they came to a door marked THE BRADLEY MACKINTOSH SHOW.
‘Here we are then,’ said Kerry more warmly, before shoving open the door to reveal a very average-looking office filled with lots of busy-looking people, who were all occupied with their computers or chatting to one another.
‘We’ll go to Mike’s office. He’s out, so we won’t be disturbed,’ said Kerry, and as Jessica followed she found herself wondering what she’d got herself into and how on earth people with no connections ever coped in interviews without bursting into tears.
Meanwhile, Paul Fletcher was about to send the final version of that week’s script through to Bradley Mackintosh, as he did every Tuesday, the theory being that the nation’s favourite interviewer could then spend all of Wednesday familiarizing himself with his links in time for Thursday’s recording. In reality, Bradley was such an old pro he was usually confident enough to have his first quick read sat in make-up, while having beige foundation smeared all over his face and his bald patch sprayed with hair in a can. Yes, there is such a thing. Paul pressed ‘send’ and then rubbed his face with his hands. Time for a cup of tea.
He rolled his chair, which was on castors, away from his desk just in time to see Kerry walking into the office. Behind her was an attractive blonde girl who was wearing a stripy sort of nautical-looking top with tight jeans. She was unfeasibly healthy-looking. Yes, healthy, decided Paul. Her skin was all … glowy … and her limbs looked toned and despite the fact that her bum was a decent size it looked as though it wouldn’t wobble if you squeezed it. Paul grinned. New blood in the office was always an interesting proposition. He carried on rolling in the direction of the kettle and started to make tea, but by the time he got back Kerry and the girl had gone into Mike’s office so he couldn’t be nosy any more.
Inside Mike’s office, Kerry had got her notepad and pen out and was in full interview mode.
‘So, actually, what’s your full name again?’
‘Jessica … Bender.’
‘Ooh, Bender. Unlucky,’ said Kerry sympathetically. Still, sympathy made a change from sarcasm or laughter.
‘OK, Jessica, what do you think of the show?’
Jessica swallowed. ‘I think it’s great. I caught some of it the other night and it was really fun.’
Kerry sighed. ‘I’m not being funny, but you can’t turn up to an interview with no opinion on the show you’ve come to work on. Don’t you have any notes?’
‘Well, no, though I would have done had I known earlier that I’d be meeting you. It’s just that when I watched the show I wasn’t really concentrating because I was at my aunt’s house and we were having dinner and –’
‘Great,’ said Kerry sarcastically. ‘I hope it was tasty.’
‘I thought the job was to help book guests,’ said Jessica, who was growing a little tired of the way Kerry was talking to her. It was almost as if she wanted the interview to go badly.
‘Ye-ah?’
‘So surely my opinion of the show wouldn’t ever really be required?’
Kerry looked surprised by this reasoning but not necessarily put off. It seemed she responded well to straight talking.
‘Kerry, I’ll level with you,’ Jessica continued. ‘I’ve only just recently come over from the States –’
‘No shit, Sherlock.’
‘So I’m not all that familiar with the show yet. Though, having said that, I get that it’s a big deal and that it would be a privilege to work on it. I’d even heard of the show in the States. In fact, I’m pretty sure Vincent Malone was a guest once, right?’
Kerry nodded, slightly bemused.
Jessica recalled Vincent telling her about i
t. She seemed to remember him saying that the host was well known for being irreverent with his guests, and that you either loved or hated him. ‘Yes, I remember hearing about it – in the press. But, anyway, I’m really keen, I’m a quick learner and when it comes to the world of celebrity I do have a bit of experience having … worked around a few … in the States.’
‘Where?’
‘I was an intern at … Fox Films,’ Jessica improvised, though even to her ears her reply sounded more like a question.
Kerry regarded the girl in front of her. ‘To be honest with you, Jessica, I’m looking for someone who really knows the show and who can come up with great ideas for future guests. That someone also needs to be able to help me actually book the guests, which in turn means someone who can speak to very high-powered agents and publicists. In other words, the person I need would have to be comfortable dealing with people who would gladly negotiate their own grandmother for a better rate, and I’m just not sure you’re that –’
Thinking fast, Jessica cut her off at the quick. ‘Agents like Dolores Rainer? Jill Cunningham? Or Max Steadman?’ said Jessica, spouting the names of just a few of Hollywood’s biggest agents, all of whom she knew personally. Her mother’s, her father’s and Vincent’s.
Kerry’s jaw dropped to the floor, but she recovered quickly. ‘Blimey, well at least you made the effort to do some research, even if you have aimed rather high. I do try to get one stellar, international guest every week, but sometimes it’s simply not possible. Although this coming week we’ve got a great line-up, actually, especially seeing as we’re getting into summer when it’s harder to get good bookings. We’ve got the presenter Jeff Bates, Kate Templeton, which is obviously brilliant, and Alan Carr.’
Jessica nodded enthusiastically, even though she’d only heard of one out of three. Kate Templeton was huge at the moment, the darling of the US box office and even giving Jennifer Aniston a run for her money. Edward had played a cameo part in one of her films and spoke of her fondly. Apparently she was lovely, though her manager was reputedly a fierce old dragon.