Stephen Leather - Take Two

‘Do you see the show in Australia?’ asked Sally.

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Jenny. Laura passed a script to her and she opened it. ‘I’m not a big one for TV, actually.’

Day laughed and slapped his hand down on the table. ‘Don’t tell the network that, darling, they’ll have your guts for garters.’ He held up his hands to quieten everyone down. ‘Right, now that we’re done with the audition, let’s get on with it. When you’re ready, Phillippa.’ He nodded at the director.

Phillippa nodded back, cleared her throat and took a deep breath. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Scene One. Day. Diana’s office. Diana and Simon are arguing.’ She pointed at Seb.

Seb looked over at Jenny. ‘Over my dead body,’ he said. ‘The only way you’re getting me out of this company is by putting a bullet in my head.’

Phillippa smiled encouragingly at Jenny. Jenny nodded. ‘Don’t think I haven’t thought about that,’ she said. ‘But my lawyers don’t need guns to get rid of you. You’re out, Simon. You’re going to lose the company, the house, everything. You’ll be lucky if you get to keep the clothes you’re wearing.’

‘Why are you doing this, Diana?’ said Seb. ‘Is it because of Fiona? That was a one-off, a stupid mistake. I was drunk, I know that’s no excuse but you have to believe me, it meant nothing. She meant nothing.’

‘Which is exactly how I feel about you,’ said Jenny. ‘I’m not doing this because I’m angry, I’m doing it because…’

‘Jenny, sorry to interrupt,’ said Sally. ‘Is there any way you could do it with a more English accent?’

‘I’m sorry?’ said Jenny.

‘I’m just having trouble with the Australian accent. Can you tone it down a bit?’

Jenny put a hand over her mouth. ‘I’m really not an actress,’ she said.

‘I know, and I’m sorry to have to ask. If you can’t, you can’t.’

Jenny put down her script. ‘You mean talk as if I was walking down the apples and stairs to go down the rub-a-dub for a pint of pig’s ear?’ She said it in a mock cockney accent that had most of the table laughing out loud. ‘I’ll give it a go, mister, or blimey if I won’t!’

Waites was one of those laughing loudest but he stopped when Sally gave him a frosty look.

‘Let’s take it from the top again,’ said Phillippa. ‘Less of the cockney rebel, Jenny, but the more English you make it the better. Okay, off we go. Scene One. Day. Diana’s office.’

Jenny began to read her lines, this time in a very passable English accent. As the reading progressed and with his eyes on the script, Day found himself forgetting it wasn’t Carolyn reading.

Richards heard the shower kick into life and he rolled out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. The woman in his shower turned to smile at him. It was Carolyn. ‘Good morning,’ she said, water cascading over her back.

Richards frowned but didn’t say anything. What the hell was she doing in his shower?

‘Why don’t you join me?’ she said, then turned away and reached for the soap.

Richards pulled off his boxer shorts, dropped them onto the tiled floor and pulled open the glass door to the shower. Steam billowed in it. She looked over her shoulder again and giggled, then took a half step backwards so that she was pressing against him. He ran his hands down her hips and she twisted around and put her arms around his neck. Her lips found his and they kissed as the water cascaded around them. Richards felt himself grow hard and he gripped her tightly. The water was blasting out of the shower heads, battering against his head with such force that it pushed him backwards. He fell against the glass wall of the shower but Carolyn kept her mouth against his.

He found it hard to move his legs and realised the shower stall was filling with water. It was already up to his groin. Carolyn lifted her right leg and entwined it around his, pulling him closer. He was finding it hard to breathe and tried to pull away but her lips stayed glued to his. Her tongue forced its way into his mouth and he tasted salt.

The water was up to his neck now and was so cold his body was growing numb and, still, her tongue probed between his teeth, the taste of salt so strong that his stomach began to heave. He pushed her but she stuck to him like a limpet and now the water was above his head and his eyes were stinging and he could hear the pounding of his heart.

Richards woke up with a gasp, bathed in sweat. He lay on his back for a minute or so, gasping, his heart racing. When his heart had returned to normal he rolled over and grabbed his mobile. He had Halpin’s number on speed dial.

‘Morning, boss,’ said Halpin.

‘Mick, mate, I need you to do something for me. Can you check out Jenny Castle for me?’

‘In what way?’

‘That she is who she says she is.’

‘You said she was Carolyn’s twin.’

‘She is. The spitting image. But I want you to dig up a birth certificate or something.’

‘That’s easy enough. Carolyn was forty-four, you said.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I should be able to get it done on line.’

‘I didn’t know you were a computer whizz?’

Halpin laughed. ‘I’m not, but I know a man who is. Do you still want me to take you to the club this evening?’

‘Sure. Pick me up at seven.’ Richards ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed. He rolled over and stared at the bathroom door, half expecting to hear the shower kick into life.

Paul Day tapped out the number of Peter Sessions, Carolyn’s agent, and swung his feet up onto his desk. He had the man’s mobile which meant he didn’t have to go through his secretary. Peter answered on the third ring. ‘Paul, are you calling to offer Carolyn more money now that she has that lifetime achievement award?’

‘I’m actually calling to see if you know where she is. She hasn’t turned up for work today.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘I’m afraid so. And she’s not answering her mobile. When was the last time you saw her?’

‘Last week. Monday. We had dinner.’

‘And she was okay, she didn’t say anything?’

‘About what?’

‘About not turning up for work this week,’ said Day.

‘Good God, of course not,’ said Peter. ‘Carolyn is a true professional. She wouldn’t just walk away.’

‘Well she’s not here,’ said Day. ‘We’ve just done the read-through and we are supposed to be shooting tomorrow.’

‘Let me see what I can do,’ said Peter.

‘Like I said she’s not answering her phone and she’s not at home. What are you planning to do, Peter, wave a magic wand?’

Peter didn’t reply.

‘Is Carolyn happy, Peter?’

‘Of course. She loves the show. She loves you.’

‘What was she talking about the last time you two got together?’

‘Come on now, Paul, you wouldn’t expect me to breach client confidentiality, would you?’

‘That would be your call. But if she doesn’t turn up sharpish she won’t have a job and you won’t have your fifteen percent. She’s been worried about the show, right? About her role?’

‘You know actors, Paul. They’re the most insecure people in the world. They count lines, they fret over the number of close-ups. Half my time is spent massaging egos.’

‘She’d heard there was a writers’ conference and I got the feeling she thinks its part of a plot to get her off the show.’

‘And is it?’ said Peter.

‘Over my dead body,’ said Day. ‘Carolyn’s a crucial part of Rags To Riches, always has and always will be.’

‘I think Carolyn worries it might not be your decision. The network is being pro-active and they seem to be wanting to chase a younger audience.’