‘And how did she know?’

  Kelly looked around again then lowered her head to whisper into Carolyn’s ear. ‘She’s been seeing one of the network producers. That Martin, the young one. He got her the job on this show and he told her they’re going to make Andrea’s part bigger. Apparently the viewers love her.’

  ‘Do they now?’

  ‘They did some market research, that’s what she said.’ Kelly began applying foundation to Carolyn’s cheeks. ‘And she said Andrea’s going to be taking over the company.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s going to be taking over the company, that’s what she said. The writers are working on the plotlines now.’ She frowned. ‘Didn’t you know?’

  ‘They never tell us anything,’ said Carolyn.

  ‘But something like that, you’d think they’d mention it, wouldn’t you? You’re the star, when all’s said and done.’

  Carolyn laughed bitterly. ‘When it comes to the power plays, we’re right at the bottom of the totem pole,’ she said.

  There was a quick double-knock on the door and Harry appeared with a mug of latte and a croissant for her. ‘Anything else I can get you, Miss Castle?’ he asked.

  ‘Another two hours sleep,’ joked Carolyn.

  It took Kelly just under an hour to get Carolyn ready for shooting, and most of the time was spent on her hair. Jake Harrington popped in twice to check on her progress. The second time he gave her new pages of dialogue, printed on pale green paper. ‘We did a bit of tweaking last night, sorry about the short notice.’

  ‘No problem,’ she said. She scanned the two sheets, then frowned. ‘You’ve cut my bit back, why’s that?’

  ‘Just a bit of tightening, that’s all.’

  Carolyn put down the sheets. ‘You’ve gutted it, Jake.’

  ‘We’re running over, that’s all, and there were a few lines we could lose,’ he said. ‘I just thought it’d be better to do it now rather than when we’re editing.’

  ‘What about Seb and Andrea?’

  ‘We’ve trimmed everyone back.’ He laughed uneasily. ‘It’s not personal, cross my heart. We’ve just had to lose thirty seconds, that’s all.’ He patted her on the shoulder. ‘It’s still a powerful scene,’ he said. ‘It’s going to be brilliant.’ He winked at her in the mirror and then hurried out.

  Carolyn sighed. ‘He’s nice, isn’t he?’ said Kelly.

  ‘He’s young,’ said Carolyn. ‘Directors always start out nice but it never lasts. The suits wear them down eventually.’

  Kelly spent another ten minutes fussing over Carolyn’s hair before she was satisfied, then Carolyn went through to the wardrobe department to put on the Chanel suit and Prada shoes. Terry Carter, the props manager, appeared with her handbag. ‘Here you are, darling,’ he said.

  Carolyn took the bag. It was a Louis Vuitton, the latest model. Like almost all of the bags, clothes and shoes she used on the show, it was a gift from the manufacturer. Designers were lining up to have their products featured on Rags To Riches as without fail an appearance on the show produced a spike in sales. Many of the designers also sent samples to Carolyn’s home in the hope their goods would appear in her paparazzi shots and while she ended up sending most to charity shops, she still had a wardrobe that would have cost hundreds of thousands of pounds if she’d had to buy them herself. It was one of the many advantages of being famous, and went some way to making up for the complete lack of privacy that went with the job.

  ‘Are you okay? You look tired?’ asked Terry.

  ‘Don’t say that. Kelly has just spent an hour working on me,’ she said.

  ‘A bit of slap isn’t going to fool me,’ said Terry.

  Carolyn laughed. Terry was one of her closest friends, a confidant and a drinking buddy. He also had a great eye for fashion and she much preferred to go out shopping with him than any of her girlfriends. He was black, gay, and had the look of a young Denzel Washington. Early in their relationship after they’d drunk a couple of bottles of red wine, Carolyn had put Terry’s homosexuality to the test and, to her disappointment, he’d passed with flying colours.

  ‘Danny’s got the gun on the set,’ said Terry. ‘What are you wearing at the awards thing tonight?’

  ‘We thought the Vivienne Westwood,’ said Laura, the wardrobe mistress. She went over to a rack and pulled out a long purple and silver dress with long sleeves. She held it up for Terry to look at.

  Terry threw up his hands in mock disgust. ‘Why don’t you pull a black bag over her head and have done with it,’ he said. ‘Didn’t Stella send in her new collection yesterday?’

  ‘Yes, but I was planning on putting Andrea in Stella.’

  ‘Where are they?’ asked Terry.

  Laura pointed to a rack and Terry flounced over and began flicking through the dresses. ‘Ah-ha!” he said, and held up a red dress with small gold stars running through it.

  ‘Please tell me that’s backless, because I’m not showing that much cleavage,’ said Carolyn.

  Terry went over to the dress and pressed it against her. She turned and looked into a long mirror. ‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘It has that wow factor, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It is lovely,’ admitted Laura.

  ‘There you are then,’ said Terry. ‘Carolyn can wear this and you can give the Westwood abomination to Andrea. It’ll cover up her flabby forearms.’

  Carolyn laughed out loud. ‘You’re such a bitch,’ she said.

  ‘That’s as may be, but at least I’m your bitch,’ said Terry.

  Carolyn kissed him on the cheek. ‘I love you,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, be still, my beating heart,’ he said, wafting his hand in front of his face.

  Harry popped his head around the door. ‘Miss Castle, Mr Harrington’s ready.’

  ‘Her master’s voice,’ said Terry. He folded the dress over his arm. ‘I’ll put this in your room,’ he said. ‘And I’ll pick out some jewellery.’

  ‘You’re going to make someone a wonderful wife,’ laughed Carolyn. She followed Harry down the corridor and through a set of soundproofed double doors. There was a sign above saying ‘Studio’ and a red light that came on when they were filming.

  The studio was the size of a large warehouse with more than a dozen sets built next to each other. It appeared to have been constructed haphazardly so that the door from her bedroom led through to her office and that, in turn, led through to a wine bar. All the walls were moveable to allow the camera to film from any angle and the flooring was dotted with taped crosses so the actors could hit their marks. Rags To Riches was a show renowned for its glamour and glitz but there was nothing at all glamorous about the sets.

  Frank was already sitting behind the camera, his young assistant standing at his shoulder. The bed had been moved and the camera was placed where the head of the bed had been so it would have Seb’s viewpoint. Harrington was sitting with Lucy, the script supervisor, facing two monitors, one in colour and one black and white. There was a canvas sheet on an aluminium frame over the top of the screens to cut down on the glare from the overhead lights.

  Carolyn had to be careful where she walked as the floor was criss-crossed with thick black cables from the various floor-mounted lights.

  Harrington got up from his folding chair and hurried over to her. ‘Everything okay with the lines?’ he asked.

  ‘I think you’ve cut more than you should, but sure, it’s not brain surgery. I’ll be fine.’ She looked around the set. ‘Where’s Seb?’

  ‘We don’t need him yet, or Andrea,’ said Harrington. ‘We’ll be in tight close-up all the time and there’s no overlap on the dialogue. I’ll use Harry to give you the eyeline and he can do Seb’s dialogue for you if you like.’

  Carolyn nodded. She could do the scene with a monkey, if necessary. The camera would be on her and only her which, in all honesty, was what every actor wanted.

  ‘We’ll do the shooting first, then the full close-up, and by then we’ll put Harry in Seb’s robe and do a couple of over the shoulder shots. To be honest, the master shot we got last night was so good we’ll use that most of the time.’

  Rick, the boom operator, waddled over. He was a portly Yorkshireman with swept-back grey hair and a thick moustache that had stayed black. He was holding the boom, at the end of which was a Zeppelin-shaped microphone. When she had first started working as an actress, Carolyn had assumed the boom operator was at the bottom of the food chain, but over the years she had come to realise it was one of the toughest jobs on the crew. It was physically demanding and required a lot of upper body strength. There was also a lot of skill involved, holding the microphone close enough to pick up the sound but never so close as to encroach into the shot. A clumsy boom operator could ruin a shot, but Rick was a true professional, one of the best in the business. ‘Morning,’ he said, and nodded. That was pretty much the sum total of Rick’s conversation during the day. A gruff ‘Morning’ or ‘Afternoon’ and a “Goodnight’ at the end of the day.

  A cable trailed from the boom across the floor to where Dougie McLean, the sound man, sat on a folding chair with a set of bulbous headphones on. One of Dougie’s female assistants walked over to Carolyn, smiled, and began to attach a radio mic, concealing it under her dress and feeding a wire through to the transmitter that she clipped to the back of Carolyn’s dress. When she’d finished, the assistant flashed Dougie a thumbs-up. ‘Give me a level, darling,’ Dougie called over to Carolyn.

  ‘Mary had a little lamb, it’s fleece as white as snow, and everywhere that Mary went the lamb went as well, because unlike men lambs are loyal…’

  ‘That’s fine,’ said Dougie.

  Harrington walked over and stood to the left of the camera, holding a set of pale green script sheets.

  ‘Everything okay, Frank?’ Harrington asked.

  ‘Ready when you are,’ said Frank, staring at the viewfinder.

  They spent the next hour filming Carolyn’s close-ups, then Harry put on a bathrobe and sat slightly in front of the camera so his shoulder was in the shot and they did all the lines again.

  When they’d finished, Harrington looked at his watch. ‘If everyone’s okay, I’d like to get straight on to the gun.’

  ‘Fine by me,’ said Dougie, nodding.

  ‘Full steam ahead,’ agreed Frank.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Harrington. He stood up, removed his headset and went over to Carolyn. ‘Do you need another practice session with the gun?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘Point and pull the trigger.’

  ‘And try not to flinch,’ said Harrington. ‘We’ll be on you from the waist up for the first shot so we’ll see your face. Then we’ll do a cutaway on just the gun. But for the first one, a sly smile would be good. And try not to blink.’

  ‘I know, the Michael Caine school of acting. Never blink.’

  ‘Yeah, that and talking in a dull monotone always did the trick for him.’ He waved Danny Brett over.

  The armourer brought his metal case with him and placed it on the floor in front of Carolyn before kneeling down and opening it. He took out the gun, keeping the barrel pointed to the floor, and placed it in her hand. ‘All right?’ he said.

  ‘Perfect,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose you could get me one that fires real bullets?’

  Danny grinned. ‘I think you could probably get one for five hundred in most pubs in South London,’ he said. ‘You got people you want to shoot?’

  ‘Just the one,’ said Carolyn.

  Danny winked at her and stepped out of the shot.

  Harrington was back in his seat with his headphones on. The microphone boom swept over her head and then stabilized. ‘Sound okay?’ he shouted.

  ‘Rolling,’ called back Dougie.

  ‘Okay,’ said Harrington. ‘And action!’

  Andrea was already in character, wide-eyed and scared on the bed. Seb was still grinning over at one of the grips but as soon as Harrington shouted he grabbed the duvet as he had done last time they had shot the scene.

  Andrea hesitated for two beats, then started to speak, her voice shaking. ‘Please, Diana, I just want to go home.’

  ‘Of course you do, babe. Just let me shoot my lying, scheming bastard husband and then you can be on your way.’ A mobile phone burst into life somewhere behind her. A Lady Gaga song.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, who’s left their bloody mobile on?’ screamed Dougie.

  ‘Cut!’ shouted Harrington.

  ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ said a red-faced man with shoulder-length hair who was standing at the far side of the set by the refreshments table. He fumbled in his leather jacket and pulled out his phone.

  ‘I might have known,’ shouted Dougie. ‘A fucking writer. Why do we allow them on set?’

  ‘Really, I thought I’d switched it off,’ said the writer. His name was Jeff Thompson and he was a recent addition to the writing staff, a veteran of Coronation Street and Holby City. Carolyn had chatted to him during the last read-through and he was a nice enough guy, though he had a habit of looking down at her breasts which she found a little disconcerting.

  Harrington stood up. ‘Well, make sure it’s off now,’ he said. ‘Okay, everyone, let’s start again. And if anyone else has a phone, for God’s sake make sure it’s off.’ He sat down again. ‘Ready. Action!”

  Andrea stared at Carolyn, steadied herself, and launched into her line. ‘Please, Diana, I just want to go home.’

  ‘Of course you do, babe. Just let me shoot my lying, scheming bastard husband and then you can be on your way.’ Carolyn swung the gun towards Seb who did a great job of registering surprise even though the camera wasn’t on him. Carolyn tightened her eyes, braced herself for the explosion, forced a smile, and pulled the trigger.

  Seb pulled out his tongue and crossed his eyes but Carolyn blocked out his antics and focused her attention on delivering her line. ‘Happy now, darling?’

  Seb stuck his finger in his ear and wiggled it in and out. Carolyn waited a few beats, still focused on Seb even though she knew the moment would be cut in the edit and it would be Seb’s reaction on screen. Then she wagged the gun and delivered the last line of the scene.

  ‘See darling, there was nothing to worry about,’ she said. ‘I’m firing blanks, just like you.’ She flashed a tight smile and held it, knowing this was the close-up that would end the scene, only relaxing when Harrington shouted ‘cut!’.

  Danny hurried over and took the gun from her and then she walked over to Harrington, who was watching the playback on his black and white monitor. He grinned and, when it had finished, he flashed her a thumbs-up. ‘That’s a wrap,’ he said. ‘Well done everyone.’

  Seb came over, fastening the belt of his robe. ‘You are such a professional, darling,’ he said. ‘I am in awe of your talent.’

  ‘You are such a bitch,’ said Carolyn. She laughed and put her arm around him. ‘I’ll get you back this afternoon. Trust me.’

  The director stood up, smiling broadly. ‘That was brilliant,’ he said. ‘Just what we needed.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘I never thought we’d get that in the first take. We’re actually ahead of the game for once.’ He clapped his hands loudly to get everyone’s attention. ‘Right, on to the boardroom scene,’ he shouted.

  The crew burst into action, moving equipment and lights. Dougie began disconnecting wires and Terry started gathering up props.

  ‘Fancy a game of whist while we wait, darling?’ asked Seb.

  Carolyn shook her head. ‘Rain check,’ she said. ‘I want to go through some lines.’ She walked back to her dressing room. She took her phone out of her bag and checked the screen, wondering if Eddie had called. There had been half a dozen calls while she’d been on the set and she scrolled through them, her heart in her mouth until she realised none was from him. She felt tears prick her eyes and she swore under her breath. She put the phone down onto the table, poured a mineral water and dropped in a slice of lemon. Her phone rang and she grabbed for it. It was her son, Robbie. She took a deep breath and took the call. ‘Darling, this is a nice surprise. Aren’t you in class?’ Robbie was boarding at a school in Cumbria and it had been a month since she’d last seen him.

  ‘I’ve got maths in five minutes but I wanted to ask you a favour.’

  Carolyn sighed. ‘How much?’

  ‘Fifty.’

  ‘Fifty pounds? Please tell me it’s not for drugs.’

  ‘Very funny, mum. We’ve got a trip to Windermere at the weekend and I need some spending money.’

  ‘But fifty quid. What are you planning on buying?’

  ‘If you can’t, I can call dad.’

  Carolyn bit down on her lower lip. Robbie was a master at playing her off against her ex-husband.

  ‘Please, mum. Everyone else is going to have fifty to spend and I don’t want to be the odd one out.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll put it in your account today.’

  ‘You’re a lifesaver, mum. Love you.’

  ‘Wait a minute, Robbie. How are you? How’s school?’

  ‘School’s school,’ he said. ‘Look mum, I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? And don’t forget the money.’

  ‘I won’t,’ she said, but the line had already gone dead. Tears were brimming in her eyes and she blinked them away. She scrolled through to Eddie’s number and called it but it went straight through to his voicemail. She didn’t leave a message.

  CHAPTER 6

  They filmed three more scenes before lunch, then Carolyn went through to the canteen where she picked up a smoked salmon salad and went to join Terry at a table by the window. He was tucking into a Shepherd’s pie and chips. ‘How’s the diet going, darling?’ she asked as she sat down opposite him.

  ‘Bitch,’ Terry said and laughed. ‘I’m in the gym with Gabe tonight, I’ll burn it off.’

  ‘You’re not going to the awards?’

  Terry laughed. ‘I’m a prop master,’ he said. ‘One of the backroom boys. Out of sight, out of mind.’

  ‘Come with me,’ said Carolyn. ‘You can be my plus one.’

  ‘And sit with a load of prima donnas and network suits? I’d rather crawl naked across broken glass.’

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30