Stephen Leather - Take Two

‘Cut!’ shouted the director.

Everyone started moving around purposefully, moving lights and reattaching cables, and a young girl in tight jeans rushed over to Seb and began dabbing at his face with a towel.

‘We’re breaking for lunch!’ shouted a girl with a clipboard. ‘Back here at two sharp to pick up with scene forty-seven.’

Carolyn walked over to Richards and held out her hand. ‘Welcome to the coal face,’ she said.

He shook her hand. ‘Thanks for having me,’ he said. He looked around the set. ‘I’m, surprised to see there’s just one camera.’

Carolyn laughed. ‘Most people are,’ she said. ‘They think we act and three or four cameras film it as it happens. No, we do it with just one camera. So they film me saying a line, then the other actor saying their line, then a shot with us both in the frame, then another looking over my shoulder. They sometimes film the same scene five or six different ways and then they all get cut together in the editing suite.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Are you okay for the canteen?’ she said. ‘It’s actually quite good.’

‘But no wine?’

‘Definitely no wine,’ said Carolyn. ‘In fact, that was lemonade I just threw in Seb’s face.’

‘And it was the third take,’ said Seb, walking over. He shook Richards’ hand. ‘You’re here for your twenty-six grand lunch?’

‘I certainly am,’ said Richards. ‘And I’m looking forward to it.’

A runner came over with a blue dressing gown and Carolyn slipped it on. ‘I feel a bit underdressed in the little black number,’ she said. ‘And I need to be wearing it for the next scene. Hope you don’t mind.’

‘You look good in blue,’ said Richards.

‘Well let’s go and see what’s on the menu.’

‘Do you want me to tag along?’ asked Terry.

‘A chaperone?’ said Richards. ‘I promise not to make any untoward advances.’

‘We’ll be fine, Terry,’ said Carolyn. ‘But leave your mobile phone on.’ She saw the look of surprise on Richards’ face and she grinned. ‘Joking,’ she said.

‘I’ll be on my best behaviour,’ said Richards.

‘I’m sure you will be,’ she said.

Carolyn was surprised at how well the lunch went. Richards was very good company, he was funny and clearly intelligent, but he was a good listener, too. She’d picked at a Dover sole, not because she wasn’t hungry but because she was so involved in their conversation. Richards had chosen seafood spaghetti and most of it was untouched on his plate as well. She nodded at his plate. ‘Not good?’

‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘To be honest, I was having too much fun talking with you.’

She laughed. ‘I was thinking exactly the same.’

‘You should come to the club sometime.’

She lifted her glass of water and watched him as she took a sip. Then she smiled. ‘I might, at that.’

Richards grinned.‘If you need a chaperone, we could make sure Seb’s there.’

‘The problem is during the week we always have early starts,’ she said, putting down her glass.

He leaned towards her and lowered his voice. ‘Between you and me, there’s been a few times when Seb has gone straight from the club to the studio.’

Carolyn laughed. ‘I believe you,’ she said. ‘But Seb’s a guy and if he looks weathered that’s all well and good. We women have to look good at eight in the morning and make-up can only do so much.’

‘Weekends then,’ said Richards. ‘Friday is always a good night.’

‘Maybe,’ said Carolyn.

‘I won’t push you any more,’ he said. ‘I know it must be annoying being pressured by fans.’

‘Is that what you are? A fan?’

‘Of course.’

She raised one eyebrow. ‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously. Why else would I pay twenty-six grand for lunch with you?’

‘How many years has the show been running?’

‘Nine.’

‘What time does it go out?’

‘Eight.’

‘What car do I drive in the show?’

‘A Lexus Prius in town and a Land Rover Evoque in the country.’

She nodded, impressed. He grinned. ‘Do you want me to tell you what colour underwear you’re wearing?’

‘Now that would be creepy,’ she said.

Richards laughed as he speared a prawn with his fork. ‘Do you grill all your fans like this?’ he asked.

‘Only the ones that pay twenty-six thousand pounds for a plate of seafood spaghetti.’

‘I do watch the show. And I’m glad I got the chance to meet you. But, hand on heart, I like to help that charity out whenever I can. I didn’t have the easiest of childhoods and if I can help kids who’ve been dealt a shit hand in life then it’s the least I can do.’

‘I’m sorry if I sounded like I was quizzing you.’

‘You were quizzing me, but you’re entitled. I’m a stranger, and you can’t be too careful with strangers. He popped the prawn into his mouth, chewed and swallowed.

‘So is there a Mr Castle?’

‘There are three former Mr Castles,’ said Carolyn. ‘All well in the past, thank God. You?’

‘Never had a Mr Castle,’ said Richards.

‘What about a Mrs Richards?’

Richards shook his head.

‘So, no kids?’

‘No, I have a son. Jamie. But he’s with his mum. We never married. I see him every few weeks and over the school holidays.’

‘How old?’

‘Fourteen.’

‘Ah, so he thinks you know nothing and everything you do is an embarrassment?’ said Carolyn.

‘Got it in one,’ said Richards.

‘I’ve a fourteen-year-old son, courtesy of Mr Castle Number One.’

‘Does he live with you?’

‘I share custody, but he’s at boarding school so I see him mainly during his holidays. My work schedule is so stupid he tends to stay with his father. We Skype, though.’

Richards laughed. ‘Yeah, how did we manage before Skype? It’s brilliant isn’t it?’

‘I dunno, I think I prefer phones so I don’t have to see the look of contempt.’

They both laughed and Carolyn realised with a jolt that she was totally at ease in his company. That didn’t make any sense. She was still interviewing him as a potential murder suspect, yet here she was swapping stories about bringing up teenagers.

‘Can I make a confession?’ he asked.

Carolyn’s jaw dropped. ‘What?’

‘A confession,’ he said. ‘Before I met you, I really did think you were the bitch from hell.’

‘Seb telling stories out of school, was he?’

Richards laughed and his eyes sparkled. ‘Of course not. I’ve never seen him at the club. No, I guess I’d formed my impression from what I’d seen on TV.’

‘You really thought I was Diana?’

‘Sure. I think everyone does, right? Hardly anyone gets to see the real you.’

‘And your point is?’

‘My point is the real you is quite something.’ He clinked his glass of water against hers. ‘I’m glad we did this.’

‘You know, so am I,’ said Carolyn.

‘Is there any way I could persuade you to do this again?’

‘What, lunch in the staff canteen?’

Richards laughed. ‘I had in mind a proper meal with champagne. I tell you what, if you’re still worried I might be a stalker, why not come to the club with Seb? We can have a decent bottle of champagne and we can eat on the terrace.’

‘I never thought you were a stalker,’ said Carolyn. ‘And, like I said, I do feel bad about you paying twenty-six grand for a seafood spaghetti. But I prefer red wine to champagne, it has to be said.’

‘So is that a yes?’

‘It’s a definite maybe,’ she said. ‘One Saturday, maybe. Let me talk to Seb.’

‘You’ve got my card,’ said Richards. ‘I’ll leave the ball in your court.’ He sniffed and cocked his head on one side.’