Behind the Scenes

by Anita Notaro

  ‘Let’s abandon this one, I don’t think either of us is going to win.’

  ‘Agreed.’ She gulped her drink and looked around. The crowd were mainly twenty- and thirty-somethings, all ultra cool. ‘Tell me when you first came here.’

  ‘I’ve been coming here for years, on and off and I still don’t know a soul. The staff changes every month, I’d say. The current trend is for very dark skins. I don’t know if that means another new owner. Still, the food is consistently good, although you may disagree. I’d say you’re an expert.’ He was teasing her again.

  ‘I doubt it. I haven’t been out in so long I’ll probably be hard pushed to order.’

  ‘OK, I can solve that.’ He took the menu from her hands and closed it. ‘Trust me, I’ve tasted it all. Only decision you have to make is – red or white?’

  ‘Will you be joining me?’ She was intrigued that he took control so easily.

  ‘Yep, I’ll have a glass, two at most because I’m driving, but you’re under no such pressure.’

  She was glad he obviously didn’t mind the fact that she might be an alcoholic and was prepared to take a chance on not having to carry her out later.

  ‘You order, to go with the food. I don’t care.’

  It was all so relaxed, so informal, so different from the starched napkins and over-anxious waiters Libby was used to that she decided to just go with it and be glad that she wasn’t home alone tonight.

  They had a big bowl of crab linguine with chilli and garlic and herbs, tossed in a fruity extra-virgin olive oil and it was delicious. To follow they had rabbit, of all things. It seemed to have been slow cooked in wine with mushrooms and lots of wild garlic and was served with a peppery rocket and herb salad. A tangy balsamic dressing came on the side. Rough bread was offered to mop up and they took full advantage and even managed a portion of cassata and a helping of berries with a hot sauce laced with amaretto and served with a bowl of something that definitely had mascarpone cheese added.

  Good coffee and an offer of free zambuccas followed.

  ‘Well, does the food meet with your approval?’

  ‘Everything was absolutely delicious. The flavours seemed to work so well and yet are so uncomplicated.’ She didn’t know it but her passion for food shone in her eyes. ‘I just love simple food using good ingredients, it comes through all the time, especially when they use stuff that’s in season. It’s a winning combination.’

  ‘You really do know your food.’

  ‘Just as well. It’s what I do for a living.’

  He looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m a chef.’

  ‘A chef?’ It was the first time he’d shown any sense of disbelief since they’d met.

  ‘You seem surprised.’

  ‘No, it’s just that you look too . . .’

  ‘Too what? Old? Wealthy? Refined?’

  He seemed a bit ruffled.

  ‘I was going to say chilled, actually.’ It was her own prejudices coming out and now it was her turn to be ruffled.

  ‘Sorry. That was just my insecurity.’

  ‘So you work in a restaurant?’

  ‘No. Although I did, years ago, when I was training. Now I write books and do . . . some TV.’

  ‘You’re a celebrity?’ He sounded like a little boy meeting his favourite pop star and she laughed.

  ‘I suppose I am.’

  ‘How come I’ve never seen you?’

  ‘You said yourself you don’t watch TV.’

  ‘That’s true. But I do read the newspapers. I should have recognized your name. Although the cookery pages aren’t really my thing.’

  She didn’t like to tell him that she featured more often in the gossip columns, something he obviously had no time for either. A couple at the next table were staring at her and she found herself hoping there were no photographers around, a thought that had only now occurred to her. What on earth was she thinking of, being seen in public with a man so soon? And her gardener, to boot. The tabloids would love that one.

  ‘Well, I don’t feature that often so you’re forgiven.’ She yawned. ‘I suppose I’d better get home. It’s late.’ She felt uncomfortable now and her anxiety spoiled the moment. ‘I insist on paying, by the way, to say thanks for helping take my mind off the day.’

  Now it was his turn to look uncomfortable. ‘I invited you,’ he said simply in a tone that brooked no argument. He signalled to the waiter and they left within a few minutes. He paid in cash, she noticed, and hoped it hadn’t cost him an entire week’s wages.

  Libby moved ahead of him quickly as they left. He sensed her mood had changed and didn’t understand it.

  ‘Are you OK?’ He seemed to ask that often now, she thought, yet they barely knew each other.

  ‘I’m fine. Thank you so much, I really enjoyed it.’

  ‘It’s just, your mood changed towards the end. Did I say something to upset you?’

  ‘No, I just felt a bit awkward.’ She didn’t know if she wanted to say it.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Some people at the next table were staring. It unsettled me.’ Sensing he’d misunderstood, she said, ‘It wasn’t anything to do with you.’

  ‘I see.’ He didn’t sound convinced and they drove in silence until they got to her gate. Libby got out to punch in the code. ‘I can walk from here,’ she told him.

  ‘I’ll see you to the door.’

  She got back into the car and he dropped her at the spot where he’d picked her up earlier. Now she wondered how she’d managed to put a damper on the nicest evening she’d had in months.

  ‘I had a good time tonight, really, it was important. I’m sorry if I went a bit quiet. I think I’m just constantly moody these days. I let things get on top of me that shouldn’t matter.’

  ‘I understand how tough it must be for you.’ Andrew’s body relaxed and he smiled. Libby felt the now-familiar feeling and had a mad desire to touch him. Quickly she jumped out of the car.

  ‘Goodnight.’

  ‘Sleep well.’ He spoke softly as if he’d read her mind and she turned purple, but it was dark so he couldn’t possibly have noticed, she consoled herself later.

  Chapter Forty-One

  THE SUMMER HAD been good to Annie, so far. She’d worked hard, walked a lot, slept well and tried to eat better and she looked tanned and fit and healthy as a result. Having a ‘proper’ job had given her a new confidence and having some money had certainly helped too. Best of all was the warm, wanted feeling a ‘best friend’ gave her.

  When the famous slapping episode was aired, the ratings were the highest of the year so far. Libby watched it with her and burst into tears. Max held drinks in the office to celebrate and made special mention of Annie in his speech. Everyone clapped and she was delighted and mortified in equal measure. Many colleagues she’d never even met came up to her to offer congratulations and she really felt part of it all at last. Finally she could stop pinching herself.

  Even Marc’s presence didn’t bother her as much, although she flinched when she saw him put his arm around one of the extras, a real-life Barbie, all blond curls and big boobs and legs. Her skirt was about the same size as the doll’s, Annie thought nastily. Orla caught her looking and suggested they go for a pizza.

  Several of the cast and most of the crew decided to join them and it was a lively gang indeed that waved Annie off on the nite-link bus at about 1 a.m. They’d tried to persuade her to take a taxi, insisting that she was too famous to travel on the bus, and she laughed and accused them of being ‘drunken, snobbish louts’. It was a fun evening and the scariest – and probably best – part of it all, she now admitted to herself, was what Max had told her. He had two bits of news. The first was that The Late Late Show wanted her to appear as a guest the following Friday.

  ‘Why me?’ Annie couldn’t believe it.

  ‘Why not you? There’s been a huge reaction to your portrayal of the character and apparently viewers want to know all about yo
u personally.’ This made Annie very uncomfortable.

  ‘Oh Max, I’m not sure. There’s nothing to tell, really. Besides, I’d be so nervous talking about myself that I’d be sure to blow it and let you down.’

  ‘Nonsense, you’ll be great.’

  ‘I’ve nothing to wear.’

  ‘Well, it’s a gig, you know. Talk to wardrobe. Tell them I said to get you something gorgeous. After all, you’re promoting the show. I don’t want you out of pocket.’ He grinned at her. ‘We’ll arrange a wedding or something equally glamorous for Bobby to attend at some stage in the future. We’ll find some use for a classy outfit.’

  ‘Not judging by what she normally considers tasteful, you won’t. It has to have Lycra, satin, cheap lace and a bit of ribbon thrown in for good measure, and that’s only the bra.’

  They laughed and she knew she had to do it.

  ‘Besides, it’s a powerful programme. It will be very good for Annie Weller’s profile too, you know.’

  ‘I know.’ She sounded rueful. ‘Sorry to be a bore.’

  ‘You’re a funny one sometimes.’ Max put his arm around her in a fatherly gesture. ‘I wish there were more like you, not a trace of ego. They should bottle you.’

  Eventually she’d agreed that she’d talk to the researcher and at least find out more, but hadn’t told any of the others. It was a gig many of them would kill for. Most actors loved promoting themselves. Annie hated it.

  ‘I also have some other news.’

  ‘No, enough is enough.’ She was laughing.

  ‘It’s good, I promise.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘In fact, it’s very good.’

  ‘Now you have me curious.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll leave it for another day.’

  ‘Not unless you want to go home with a black eye.’

  ‘OK.’ He smiled down at her. ‘Try this for size. You’ve been nominated for best newcomer at the drama awards next month.’

  If he’d told her she was taking a shuttle to Mars in a future episode she couldn’t have been more surprised.

  ‘You’re joking.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  Annie was speechless. ‘Where? . . . When?’

  ‘I just got the call this afternoon. I was going to announce it but I decided you might faint on me.’

  ‘Faint? Nothing so mundane. I’d have burst into tears and then collapsed at your feet and licked them, then run round the complex screaming hysterically. Believe me, by the end of it you’d have been praying for a faint.’ She was laughing again. ‘I can’t believe it. You’re not joking by any chance?’

  He grinned back. ‘No, Annie, I’m not joking. Are you pleased?’

  ‘Pleased doesn’t go anywhere near it. I am over the moon. My God, I can hardly take it in. You are sure?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘Well, the ceremony is in Dublin this year so you don’t get to travel, unfortunately. But it’s big, in fact it’s huge. I’ve never known it to happen so quickly before. Usually, they wait to see how an actress develops. But we sent in all your upcoming stuff and they included you. I reckon it was the scene with Marc that swung it.’

  She shook her head in disbelief. ‘What happens next?’

  ‘The Press Office will do a release this week. The Late Late Show got wind of it, that’s one of the reasons they want you so soon. You’re up against stiff competition this year. As you know, the awards cover England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales and there’s some good stuff out there, so don’t pin your hopes on winning. But it is one hell of an achievement to be nominated in your first year.’

  ‘Listen, I know I won’t win. But just to be nominated, I mean, it’s like the Oscars of the TV world.’

  ‘You deserve it, even if I am biased.’ He shooed her away. ‘Go tell.’

  ‘No, not tonight. I don’t want to hog the limelight. Anyway, I don’t think I’d convince anyone because I’m still sure I’m dreaming.’

  ‘I promise you, you’re not. The papers will have it in a day or two anyway, so don’t be coy.’

  ‘I still need to get used to it myself. I won’t be able to eat a bite now, you’ve ruined my appetite.’

  Max sent her off. The rest of the night passed in a dream and she wanted to hug herself with joy every time she remembered. She couldn’t wait to tell Libby, in fact she resolved to text her as soon as she got home. It was a habit they’d got into lately whenever one of them had news and was a good way of checking if the other was awake. They invariably ended up talking for hours in the middle of the night.

  Annie thought about it again now as the bus pulled into the green at the other side of her estate. It wasn’t her usual route because she was normally in bed long before the first nite-link driver came on duty, but it left her only minutes from home. She was still cocooned in a warm glow, so the fresh air was a relief.

  She swung her bag and clip-clopped happily along the edge of the green, daydreaming in the dark, her thoughts a vibrant, heady mix. She was wondering about her dress for the night and imagining her father’s pride. She had a nostalgic but not unpleasant longing for her mother and her mind was busy planning a pink and rosy future.

  Afterwards, she couldn’t remember when she first heard the rustle in the bushes behind, or the almost silent padding footsteps. She listened, half cocking her ear: was it her imagination? Much later, she would recall the exact moment she heard the laboured, heavy breathing.

  Her first instinct was to stop dead and turn around. This was immediately followed by a desire to run, but she settled for quickening her step. In any event it wouldn’t have mattered: within seconds she felt a hand across her mouth and her thoughts were viciously interrupted.

  She was aware of the smell of cheap aftershave as he swung her round and whispered, ‘Don’t try to scream.’

  The man was tall and wore a suit, which confused her and made her think her flailing body was over-reacting. Then she noticed it was a shiny suit. A shiny, grey, cheap suit and it smelt of cigarettes. He looked chillingly normal, though, dull greasy hair, slightly unshaven, sort of clean-living, as if he’d made a bit of an effort. But her abiding memory would always be stale smoke and cheap scent. And later alcohol and sweat.

  He dragged her over to the bushes and shoved her to the ground. She was terrified but outwardly calm. And cold.

  ‘Please, don’t hurt me. I don’t have much money but take what you want. My bag is over there—’ she pointed vaguely in the direction of the path she’d been forced off, her breath coming in short gasps.

  She didn’t understand the shortness of breath, until she felt the pressure like a brick on her chest and realized she was struggling in a grip that threatened to cut off the air to her lungs. ‘Please, I can’t breathe.’ She was getting slightly panicky: something told her she had to keep control.

  ‘I don’t want your money, Bobby. I should be paying you. Isn’t that what usually happens?’ His voice sounded hollow, his words slightly slurred.

  She was concentrating hard on the details of his face, in order to convince herself she’d need to remember it for the police later. She had to believe in a future. It took a second to realize what he’d called her. It jolted her back to what was posing as reality.

  ‘I’m not Bobby. I’m Annie.’ Now calm again, she raised her body as much as she could, to sound more in control.

  ‘I know who you are. I’ve watched your carryon every night.’ His words registered with chilling clarity. ‘You’re a whore and I’m going to teach you a lesson.’

  He slapped Annie hard on the face and she fell back, hitting her head and suddenly struggling to keep him in focus. She knew she had to. If she lost consciousness she felt sure he would kill her.

  He was straddling her. In slow motion she looked up and blinked and saw him silhouetted against an inky, starry, lovers’ sky, as he unbuckled his belt and opened his fly. Her fear turned to sweat, which trickled down her spine and t
ickled her. He leaned over, ripped open her jacket and tore at her blouse and bra, exposing her breasts.

  ‘You’ve been asking for it, teasing all the men, you bitch.’ He spat on her and the contempt in the spewing saliva was somehow worse than what had gone before. His breathing was heavier now and he was closer. She could see the stubble glistening on his chin and the alcohol and sickly sweet aftershave made her gag. She’d often wondered what she’d do in this situation, like most women, but logical thoughts were easy in the cosy warmth of her bed or when listening to crime statistics or watching a police drama. How stupidly innocent it had been to decide that she’d kick and scream and tear his eyes out. Nobody had warned her about the paralysis that gripped every muscle.

  He took a clean, shiny, innocent-looking Swiss army knife out of his pocket and held it near her neck. His breath was rancid. ‘I’ll fucking kill you if you make a sound,’ he said smoothly, as if telling her the time. She looked up at him, feeling his body pinning her to the ground; yet on another level she seemed to be floating above it all, looking down on him.

  With the knife in his right hand he reached over and yanked up her skirt with his left. Annie heard his laugh from a long way away as he gazed down at her childish white cotton pants. Later she thought it was probably the filthy, rasping laugh that finally galvanized her.

  ‘Bitch. Innocent-looking whore, I’m going to—’ She rammed her knee into his groin and he was momentarily stunned. Straightening her lower limbs, she forced her foot between his legs. It was as savage a contact as she could manage from her weakened position and was delivered with every ounce of strength she had. If he came close again, she knew she was in real trouble. Annie had only one scream in her. It was raw and strangled and seemed to come from very far away. When she saw him lunge at her with the knife she gave in immediately and was silent and flaccid. It was eerily calm for a split second.

  ‘Hey missus, you OK?’ She didn’t connect the voice to a human until she heard the footsteps and felt her attacker stiffen.

  In a flash he was off her and two teenagers took his place, staring down at her.