That last night before we left for Watford I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. But as I sat on the edge of a strange bed in a strange flat about to do something I hardly dared to dream of, I felt petrified.
Mum pushed open my bedroom door and the light from the hallway flooded in.
“I’ve brought you some tea,” she said, setting it down beside the strange bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” I said. “A bit sick actually.”
“Well, you’ll be fine with a good breakfast inside you,” Mum said. “There’s bacon and eggs waiting for you in the kitchen.” She smiled at me. “This is it, Ruby! Today’s the first day of you being a movie star. This is the day when everything changes.”
I swallowed and nodded and got back into bed and pulled the duvet right over my head.
Chapter Nine
Sometimes when I was working on Kensington Heights I’d get picked up in a car from home if I had a very early shoot, or dropped off in one after a late finish. I used to feel really important getting picked up in a people carrier or a four-wheel drive.
But when Mum and I opened the front door to the apartment block we were staying in and saw an actual stretch limo waiting to take us to the studio, we couldn’t believe it.
“I feel underdressed,” my mum said, running her fingers through her hair, which was a lie anyway as she was as dressed up and with as much make-up on as when she went out on one of her nights. More dressed up, actually, because she had high-heeled, peep-toed sandals on. In November! And she never usually wore heels. I didn’t know why she had made such an effort. I mean all she would be doing all day was hanging around in make-up, hanging around on set, or maybe hanging around in our Winnebago.
Winnebago! I smiled with delight at the almost magic word as we slid into the back of the limousine. It was a lot like stepping into the Tardis, I’d imagine. It was huge inside. Really long, the floor and ceiling lit with ropes of sparkling lights. There was a TV set in one corner and what might have been a fridge. Mum and I sat stiffly on the back seat and looked around us. I think both of us were afraid to move or touch anything.
“Goodness me,” Mum said, laughing nervously. “A limo to pick you up and a Winnebago. Whatever next?”
I thought about what our Winnebago would be like. It was really just a very big, very posh caravan that actors could rest in, eat in, or read their lines in while they were not required on set. And the Winnebago was a sort of currency among film actors, because the bigger the Winnebago, the bigger the star.
It was a bit like the size of the star you had stuck on your dressing-room door in TV or the theatre. (The star on my ex-TV mum Brett Summers’s door had been the biggest one I had ever seen, but I found out just before I left the show that actually she had made it herself out of the back of a cornflakes packet and glued it on with eyelash glue because the BBC one wasn’t big enough. But I wasn’t surprised to find out it was false. It turned out that nearly everything about her was false, and all the time I had trusted her and thought of her almost like a real mother, she had been plotting to get me fired from the show because she said I stole every scene we were in together!)
So, the bigger the star, the bigger the Winnebago. I expected Imogene Grant’s to be super-sized. Maybe even a two-storey one, with a gym and a Jacuzzi. Jeremy Fort and Harry McLean’s would be about the same I guessed. A fully equipped kitchen and king-size bedroom at least. I wasn’t sure about Sean Rivers because although he was very famous, he was quite young at just fifteen, and I wasn’t sure if being young outweighed being really famous. As I was even younger and not very famous at all, I didn’t have too high expectations for mine. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care if my Winnebago was more like the kind of caravan you might find on a disused campsite in Bridlington. It would be a Winnebago on a film set and it would be mine.
Remembering that Danny wanted me to tell him everything, I texted him. “In a limo on way to set and Winnebago!! Rxxx.” I held the phone in my hand for a couple of minutes expecting it to fizz and beep in my palm, but it lay dormant. Mum glanced at me.
“He’s still in bed I expect, love,” she said annoyingly, knowing exactly what I had been doing. “It’s not even seven yet.”
The studios themselves were not as glamorous as I expected them to be. I suppose I’d thought they’d be shooting loads of different films all at once and that the lot would be crowded with hordes of extras: a legion of Roman soldiers, a gaggle of Victorian cockneys and some dancing cheerleaders. But instead, as the limo pulled through the security gate, the studio seemed largely deserted.
It was much, much bigger than I had imagined. In fact, it wasn’t like I had imagined at all. I could see two huge, nearly featureless buildings like aircraft hangars or warehouses side by side, grey with a big orange stripe about two-thirds of the way down. The only distinguishing feature was that the one on the left had a large green number one on it and the one on the right had a number two. I was going to the building marked two. Somewhere else there would be two other identical buildings marked three and four.
It would be inside building two that I would shoot my first scene in The Lost Treasure of King Arthur. It wasn’t the first scene that Polly appeared in in the story, in fact, it was quite near the end, after she had discovered that she was really Ember Buchanen and was trying to escape Professor Darkly. The scene I was shooting today was where Polly was trapped in the Caverns of Mordred hidden beneath the British Museum, stranded on a tiny ledge above a lethal drop trying to reach out to Flame and Gareth (played by Harry McLean), who were just out of reach on a wider ledge above. I was excited about it, but I hoped that the ledge wouldn’t really be too high. I wasn’t that keen on heights.
I didn’t mind shooting out of sequence; I was used to it. We did it all the time in Kensington Heights. Shot all the scenes that took place in one set at once, no matter where they came in the episode. On this film it was done in order of how long it would take to add special effects. The bigger the effects, the earlier the scene was shot. It also depended on the actors. It cost less money to shoot the scenes with all or most of the principal actors in first so that you didn’t keep expensive stars hanging around for weeks waiting for their next scene. Polly and Professor Darkly were mostly in the film from the middle to the end. When those scenes were completed, Jeremy Fort and I would be finished until post-production and the other actors would shoot the first half.
I was a bit worried about my first scene being one so far into the film though. I was still feeling like I was getting to know Polly/Ember. I was worried that in this first filmed scene I might get it all wrong, and then when I went back and acted the earlier scenes Polly would seem like a completely different girl. But Art Dubrovnik told me I didn’t have to worry. He told me that he had a vision for the whole of the film; he knew exactly how every scene should be. And that if I followed his direction I would be perfect.
The limo drew to a stop outside the hangar and a door opened in the side. A tall young woman holding a clipboard came out and opened the limousine door. She had a belt on with a walkie-talkie attached to it and one of those headsets that hook over your ear with a mouthpiece that comes around the side. She was extremely pretty with big black eyes and a friendly smile. She had the longest hair I’ve ever seen swinging in tiny beaded plaits right down past her bum.
“You must be Ruby,” she said, taking my hand and then surprising me with a kiss on each cheek. “And Ruby’s mum, Mrs Parker—Janice, isn’t it?” She kissed Mum, who rather awkwardly kissed her back. “Pleased to meet you, I’m Lisa Wells.”
“But…?” Mum and I looked at each other and the woman laughed so that the beads in her hair rattled like rain against a window pane.
“The real Lisa Wells.” She looked at my nervous face. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m nothing like Imogene’s version. That version was mean, wasn’t she? I think Imogene must have had a few tough auditions when she was starting out!”
Li
sa showed us into a long, brightly-lit corridor and led us up some stairs, talking all the time as we followed her.
“First stop, we drop in on Art. He’ll give you his pep talk and then tell you to call him Art. Second stop, make-up. They’ll be making you look sweaty and dirty with a few cuts and bruises, so nice and glamorous! Third stop, wardrobe, run by our ‘charming’ wardrobe mistress Tallulah Banks. Don’t get on the wrong side of her—that woman can hold a grudge.” Lisa threw me a grimace over one shoulder. “She’s still holding one against me. Don’t ask, it’s a long story…Anyway,” she continued, “you actually appear to wear the same outfit for almost all of the film. But we have thirty-two identical versions each numbered and cross-referenced to where you are in the story. Number one is the neat clean one. Number thirty-two is near the end when you’re sinking into a pool of molten lava. You’ll be wearing twenty-eight today. It’s pretty messed up.” She flashed me a smile over her shoulder. “You have three scenes scheduled today.”
“Is that all?” I said, surprised. Three scenes in Kensington Heights took about an hour. This was a whole day’s work and the scenes were much shorter.
“That’s right, honey. There’s an awful lot of takes before we get the right one. You’ll see,” Lisa said. She stopped so suddenly that I almost walked into her click-clacking beads. She opened the door of a meeting room.
Sitting around three tables pushed together were Art Dubrovnik, Imogene Grant, Harry McLean and Jeremy Fort. They had their scripts open and Jeremy was making notes in his.
“Ooooh,” I heard Mum squeak behind me. I shot her a look and she clamped her mouth shut, trying not to go all gooey at the sight of Jeremy Fort, who was—the last time I looked—going out with a Russian supermodel half Mum’s age and width, and so wasn’t very likely to fancy her even if she wasn’t my mum. I was glad though that Sean Rivers wasn’t sitting at the table. If Sean Rivers had been there I would have been dead of heart failure about five seconds later and Anne-Marie would have got her wish after all. I still hadn’t worked out how I was going to manage when I actually met him. I might be all right if he stood still and didn’t speak or move, but if he smiled at me, that gorgeous, lovely smile from the very end of The Underdogs, then that would be it: the whole heart-failure thing would kick in and my career would be over. I thought about Danny and felt a pang of guilt. Here I was in a room full of some of the world’s most famous people and I was going slushy over Sean Rivers (who wasn’t even here) when I had a great boyfriend already. I pushed Sean to the back of my mind and made myself focus on Mr Dubrovnik.
“Ruby!” Art Dubrovnik said, standing up and smiling that smile that pushed his whole face upwards. “Come, come—come and sit down. There’s coffee and fruit and croissants. Can I get you anything?” I shook my head but he poured Mum and I black coffees anyway and set an orange down next to our cups, as we took the two seats closest to the door.
“You need a good breakfast, right, Mrs Parker?” he said, grinning at my mum.
“I always say so,” Mum said, adding, “Call me Janice, please.”
“Janice, thank you, I will. Ruby, I’ve got us all together here this morning because I want you and everyone here to know: you’re on a team now. Team King Arthur. And on my team no one is more important than anyone else. Except me of course,” Art chuckled and everyone smiled except Mum who laughed, maybe a little too loudly.
“Now, Ruby,” he continued, “you’re a very lucky girl. You have three great actors to learn from—four if you count Sean, who is very promising. Learn from them, pay them respect, but don’t be afraid of them. They are your colleagues. Your friends. OK?” I nodded and caught Imogene winking at me, which made me feel a bit less nervous.
“OK, Mr Dubrovnik,” I said.
“Call me Art, OK?” He grinned at me.
“OK, A…Art,” I said, somehow managing to stumble over the short and simple name. “Um,” I felt the question forming in my mouth almost before I knew what it was going to be. “Where is Sean Rivers?” I asked Art Dubrovnik in a silly high voice, like a lovesick little fan. “Will I get to meet him today?”
Art chuckled and I felt my cheeks grow hot.
“He’s not arriving until next week, Ruby; in the scenes you are shooting this week Sean’s character, Catcher, is somewhere else in the Caverns of Mordred getting slowly crushed to death in a stone prison with shrinking walls.” Art smiled at me. “Don’t worry, Ruby, you’ll meet him soon enough. Just try not to fall for him, OK? We don’t have time for on-set romances—right, Imogene?” Art grinned at Imogene as I considered what my chances of survival would be if I threw myself out of the window. The last thing I wanted Art to think was that I was so unprofessional that I would have a crush on one of my fellow actors. I mean, I might have, but I didn’t want him to know that!
“Oh, leave Ruby alone, Art,” Imogene said mildly, sipping her coffee. Somehow the tone of her voice took some of the heat out of my cheeks. “All Ruby was doing was asking about a fellow actor who is pretty key to her role in the film. I think it’s you who’ll need some direction here from me—on how to treat teenage girls. Rule number one is don’t tease them. Rule number two is DO NOT TEASE THEM. Got it?” Imogene smiled sweetly at Art who gave her a little bow.
“Got it,” Art said. “Sorry for teasing you, Miss Parker.”
“Were you teasing me?” I asked him, managing to get my own back. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Art smiled at me.
“You’re pretty funny, Ruby,” he said. “I like you.”
“Art,” the real Lisa Wells interrupted us, “we’ve only got three hours to get this lot through make-up and costume. And we’ve got the Legions of Mordred downstairs waiting to get zombied up.”
“Well, I can see my boss wants you guys,” Art said jovially, “so off you go. I’ll come round while you’re in make-up and talk through the scene with you and then I’ll see you all on set.”
And that was how it began. That was how my movie career began.
And nothing on the first day went exactly how I had imagined.
I had been in make-up for nearly an hour by the time Art came to see me. In fact, I was almost asleep because Natasha the make-up lady told me I had to close my eyes while she applied a deep bloody gash to my temple, which seemed to take for ever.
“Ruby,” Art said, making me jump a little in my chair, which made Natasha hiss through her teeth.
“Hello, Mr Dubrovnik, Art, I mean,” I said, opening one eye and looking sideways at him.” Natasha clamped a hand on my head and repositioned it with a huff. Natasha was quite scary.
“Don’t move,” she told me. “We’re at a crucial moment.” There was no way I was going to disobey her; I would actually slip into a coma if I had to sit here for another hour.
“So you know your lines for today?” Art asked me.
“Yes,” I said, without nodding. “There aren’t that many, are there?” Art laughed.
“It’s not about how many there are—it’s about how you deliver them, how you feel the lines and the scene. In this scene, in the ledge scene, you have to think about all the things that are going on in Polly’s head. First of all, she’s very scared. She’s on a tiny ledge with a drop beneath so big that she can’t see the bottom.” I swallowed.
“Will there be a mattress or something if I fall off?” I asked him hopefully. “Or a stunt girl?”
“A stunt girl?” Art asked me absently as he concentrated on his notes. “No, Ruby, you only get one of those for the really dangerous scenes, explosions and stuff or—if like Imogene—it would cost too much money to replace you.”
“OK,” I said, trying to hide the anxiety in my voice. I wasn’t going to have to act scared. Hanging off a high ledge, even a movie-set ledge, wouldn’t require me to act at all.
“Also,” Art continued, “Polly still hasn’t really understood what’s happening to her. This morning she was a prim little English schoolgirl with a clever daddy who loved her and w
ho she loved very much. This afternoon not only has she found out that he’s a deranged murderer, but that he never loved her, she is not his daughter and that she is at the very top of the list of people he wants to knock off. She’s in shock, she’s hurt and confused. She still loves him, even though she’s frightened of him. And as for Flame and Gareth trying to persuade her to jump off the ledge and out into nothing so that they can try and catch her hand before she falls? Well, she’s only just met them, and ever since they came into her life things have gone terribly wrong. She doesn’t trust them and she almost hates Flame. She hates her for telling her the truth. Do you get that?”
“I get it,” I said. And I thought I did. I thought about the night Mum and Dad told me they were splitting up and the shock and hurt I felt, not to mention the anger. I was angry because I hadn’t wanted to know the truth. I think that was how Polly would be feeling. Almost that she would rather have been led unknowingly to her death on the altar of the evil sorcerer Mordred than find out her daddy didn’t love her.
“So,” Art said, “when you make that decision to jump, are you doing it because you suddenly realise that Flame is your sister and you trust her?” I shook my head, and Natasha narrowed her eyes at me.
“No,” I said. “I’m doing it because the alternative is death. The mummified zombie-witch Morgaine is creeping down towards the ledge and when she gets there she’ll take me to be killed anyway. Jumping is the only chance I have. And I’m a survivor. I’m only just beginning to realise how tough I really am after all those years of being brought up as an English rose.”
Art nodded.
“Good,” he said, patting me heavily on the shoulder. “Good girl.”
“Art?” I asked him. “Will there be wires when I jump off the ledge? Like safety wires?”
“Wires?” Art looked at me, puzzled. “You won’t need wires, Ruby.”
“‘kay,” I said. And my mouth suddenly went dry.
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