Stephen Leather: Take Two

‘Do you think the show will get anything?’

‘It’s possible. You and Seb might even get best kiss.’

‘Oh God, don’t remind me,’ said Carolyn, settling back in her seat and folding her arms. ‘Jake, have you heard anything about the storylines?’

‘Like what?’

Carolyn shrugged as if she didn’t care overmuch. ‘Just where the story’s going.’

‘You know the directors are at the bottom of the food chain,’ he said. ‘First we get to hear of the plot is when the script arrives. We’re the hired hands.’

‘You talk to the writers, though.’

‘Only about the script I have. To be honest, even the writers don’t have much say in the plotlines anymore. It’s Paul who runs the show but even he has to take notes from the network.’

‘Since when?’

‘It’s been happening bit by bit over the past few years. In the good old days, long before my time, the network just put up the money and Paul produced the show. A couple of network execs might drop by during the edit but that was just a courtesy. It all changed when they asked for script approval. Then they wanted to make casting decisions and now the network decides pretty much everything.’

‘Paul never said anything.’

‘Well he’s not likely to, is he? The problem is that he doesn’t own the show. The network does. So if push came to shove, they could replace him.’

‘But it’s his show. He created it. Without Paul there wouldn’t be a Rags To Riches.’

‘Sure, but you’ve got to remember that when he was trying to get the show off the ground, he couldn’t get arrested. He was on London’s Burning and that closed, and he was on The Bill when that went under, and then he was unemployed for getting on five years. Rags To Riches was his way back in and the network knew that so they screwed him on ownership.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ said Carolyn.

‘Well it doesn’t affect you, does it? You’re a star. We all revolve around you.’

‘You think so?’

‘You’re the one they tune in to see,’ said Harrington. ‘You’re the one the public loves. You think they even know who Paul is? Or the network suits?’ He shook his head. ‘All those credits that run at the end of the show, do you think people even read them? That’s when they go for a pee or to put the kettle on.’

‘That’s funny because I heard that you directors refer to actors as talking props.’

Harrington chuckled. ‘You’d never hear me saying that,’ he said. ‘But there are some directors who feel that the actors do get in the way of their vision.’ He put his head on one side. ‘Something worrying you?’

Carolyn smiled, trying to make the smile appear as genuine as she could. She barely knew Harrington and while he seemed a pleasant enough guy and a competent director, she didn’t know him well enough to trust him. For all she knew, he might pass on anything she said to the network suits. ‘No, just wondering what was coming up, that’s all.’

‘I do know that there’s a big writers’ meeting the week after next and the network’s people will be there. That usually means there’s something big on the way.’

‘Yeah, it’s next Wednesday.’

‘How do you know that?’

She tapped the side of her nose. ‘I have my contacts,’ she said.

‘I knew it was Wednesday but I’m not in on it.’

‘Who is?’

‘The writers. Head of Drama. That’s Sally. There’s Lisa, Deputy Head of Drama. Sinead’s going. A few of the network producers. Nick, Francesca and Karen. And that new kid on the block, the one who always wears a sharp suit and smells of eucalyptus. What’s his name? Martin?’

‘But no directors?’

Harrington laughed again. ‘I told you. We’re just hired hands. I kid you not, Carolyn, they could replace every one of the directors on this show within an hour. There are people out there who would kill to direct this show and a lot of them would do it for free. You think actors have it tough? Directors really are treated like shit.’

‘Is it normal to keep you in the dark, then?’

‘Not normal, no.’

‘And what about Paul? Will he be there?’

‘That, I’m not sure about.’

‘Doesn’t that worry you?’

‘What?’

Carolyn sighed. ‘That they’re cutting Paul out of the loop. It’s like a bloody coup, Jake. It used to be that Paul ran everything. Now the network is pulling the strings.’

‘The network loves you, Carolyn. They’re huge fans. If anything, it will probably be good news for you.’

‘We’ll see,’ said Carolyn. She frowned. ‘Why is Sinead going to be there? She’s casting director.’

Harrington shrugged. ‘Like I said, they tell me nothing. What are you worried about?’

‘Maybe they’re planning a plane crash to kill us all off and bring in new blood.’

‘I doubt they’d have the budget for that.’

‘Maybe a car crash, then. Or a killer bug. And they need Sinead to put together a new cast.’ She sighed. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I just get the feeling that there’s something going on and nobody will tell me.’

‘I hear that,’ said Harrington. ‘But like I said, you’re a star, Carolyn. They don’t get rid of stars.’

There were a dozen photographers huddled around the gate at the entrance to the grounds of the country house hotel and flashes went off as the Mercedes drove by. ‘Why do they bother?’ asked Harrington.

‘Because they might get lucky and catch an actor smoking a joint or picking their nose,’ said Carolyn.

‘That bad?’

‘Worse than that, Jake. A thousand times worse. What they want is a reaction. Sometimes they’ll shout out the most obscene stuff, just to get a reaction. That’s why every now and then someone will snap and take a swing at them.’

‘You haven’t though?’

‘You can’t because the picture of you screaming at them is the one that’ll be on all the front pages. You just have to grin and bear it.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘Besides, if there’s one thing worse than being pursued by the paparazzi, it’s being ignored by them.’

The Mercedes pulled up in front of the hotel. The driver got out and hurried around to open the door for Carolyn. As she got out, two pretty girls in short skirts and impossibly high heels tottered over. They both had tight tops with sashes across their chests with SOAP OPERA DIGEST across them. One of them presented her with a small bouquet and they escorted her into the hallway. To the left, a large banner had been set up and to the right was a bald photographer in a black suit who winked at her. ‘Miss Castle,’ he said. ‘Big fan.’

Carolyn took off her coat and gave it to one of the girls, then posed for half a dozen photographs, then waved for Harrington to join her. Standing next to the photographer was a young woman with a clipboard. She smiled at Carolyn and nodded at the dress. ‘Stella McCartney,’ said Carolyn, and the woman scribbled on her clipboard. She looked up again and smiled at Harrington. ‘And who are you?’ she asked.

‘Me? Nobody.’

Carolyn slipped her arm through his. ‘Jake Harrington,’ she said. ‘He’s a fabulous director and we all love working with him.’

‘And your new boyfriend?’

Carolyn laughed. ‘My director,’ she said. She smiled as the photographer took a few more pictures, then led Harrington away from the banner towards the main ballroom.

‘I don’t know how you put up with it,’ said Harrington.

‘With what?’

‘Being photographed all the time. I’d hate it.’

‘That’s funny, you being a director and all,’ said Carolyn. ‘That’s your job, taking pictures of people.’