Chasing Charlie (6 page)

SAM

Wrangling annoying extras, trying to keep children warm and having to be polite to their overbearing parents was difficult enough on an average day. It was even more difficult when a girl felt compelled to check her phone every half hour, without anyone noticing. It had been three whole sleeps since our date and the text he'd sent about how gorgeous it was to see me. My patience was almost broken enough to contact him. I wasn't going to though; I'd promised myself I wouldn't be that weak. I would have some fun, like Claudia said, without throwing myself at him. I did have
some
pride. I'm not completely sure where exactly . . . Anyway it was hard to check for text messages when everyone was meant to have their phones off. Especially when I'm essentially another set of eyes and ears for the first – who had to have a quiet set.

Today I was working on a commercial for an insurance firm. Most of it was inside, in a pretty grand house in Highgate, but there were a few set-ups on the driveway outside. The script went: family (the children overexcited, the parents looking harassed) are leaving a children's birthday party, they pile into their car and then the father reverses – crunch – into the fence. The ad ends with the rest of the children spilling out of the house when they hear the noise, yelling in unison, ‘You should have insured with Carsure!' It was riveting stuff.

All morning there had been much umming and ahhing over the weather, which had completely buggered up the proposed schedule. We were meant to shoot the exterior scenes last but as it had been threatening to rain all morning, the decision had been made to push on and get the outside shots done before the rain made it impossible. Unfortunately for me this had meant keeping fifteen extras, all aged around eight years old, plus their parents, quiet and happy inside all morning, while they waited for the scene when they were all due to emerge from the house, yelling about insurance – obviously the first thing on every eight-year-old's mind. Whatever bright spark had written this script and thought they needed so many kids at this party (couldn't they tell it with, say, six kids?) had obviously never been a third. And the extras! They weren't the usual, well-behaved lot from an agency or a drama school or whatever – they were the children and friends of the client. A few of them were plugged into screens of one sort or another but most of them were horsing about and looking at me with an insolent eye, while the mums (with a couple of exceptions) gossiped and flicked through magazines.

‘Come in, Sam, over.' The radio crackled on my hip.

‘Receiving, over.' At last, the first! That had to be the call for my extras to stand by for their scene surely. Or, even better, we were wrapping for lunch. I glanced at my watch – one o'clock already, no wonder I was hungry. I watched a heavyset boy get up onto a chair and prepare himself to jump off into an area of floor littered with discarded shoes and toys, most of them with wheels.

‘Stand by for updated schedule. We're stopping now to discuss, over.'

‘Roger, over.'

Crap. I shoved my radio back into its holster and reached the boy just before he jumped off, taking him by the arm and guiding him firmly to the ground.

‘Ow, that hurt!' The boy shook off my hand. I looked at his flaccid face and saw a boy who didn't get enough exercise or the word no. I sighed noisily – it was either that or scream.

‘I want Dad!' he demanded, rubbing his arm some more.

A pretty Asian woman appeared then. ‘Don't worry, Henry. Daddy's busy being big man outside right now, you see him soon.'

Big man? Did she really just say that without any irony at all?

‘But I want him now!'

‘Come on, Henry, come and see what Nanny Chu has for you in her bag, it's your favourite,' and she took him out of my reach, thankfully, before I banged their heads together.

Taking a chance that no one would come looking for me, I quickly popped out of the back door of the house (the extras and I were holed up in the family room slash conservatory at the back of the house, out of the way of the camera at the front) and walked quickly to the corner of the building to peer around. The camera base was under a pop-up gazebo on the driveway at the front of the house, a good thirty yards from where I stood. Even from this distance I could tell that the tension on set had moved up a few notches from edgy (fuelled only by adrenaline) to unpleasant (fuelled by fear). Overhead, the clouds loomed darkly, while on the ground, the director, DOP, first, gaffer, producer and client were huddled together. Ridiculously, the producer still had his ‘client smile' plastered on his face, although the stress had frozen it into a frightened rictus. He would look so much more convincing if he just frowned. But who would have the balls to tell him that? I watched the gaffer break away to peer at the sky through a gaffer's glass, looking for the position of the sun behind the clouds. My heart sank. That would indicate they were discussing the next shot, not lunch. My tummy rumbled.

I turned to go back to the conservatory of hell when a boy shot past me, running straight for the gazebo. It was Henry. I was wrong about the lack of exercise – he could move.

‘Henry! Come back.' Nanny Chu staggered past me in her heels, her hands pawing the air in front of her, looking a little like she was practising her doggy paddle in what I can only assume was an attempt to make herself go faster. Henry wasn't listening; he was hell-bent on reaching that gazebo in record time and he was going so fast he looked like he was going to run straight into the meeting without stopping. My hand reached for the radio but wavered, not sure if a message on the radio would serve to warn my first of the incoming spoilt missile or distract her. As it was, it all happened too fast for me to stop it. Henry went to barrel into his father from behind but in the second before he made contact, his dad must have heard him – or more likely the squawking from the nanny – and half turned, just as Henry made contact, his dad's elbow fitting neatly into the socket of Henry's right eye. Henry reeled back, clutching his eye and screaming. Only then did my feet get into gear and I ran over to join the chaos. As I pulled up short of the group, the first fixed me with an icy stare.

‘Get back to the extras, Sam,' she said, before motioning to the runner to fetch an ice pack from inside. I turned to go but she said my name again. It was really noisy with Henry going on and on, the producer flapping about apologising to the client and no doubt bitterly regretting his poorly thought-out ‘sure, what a great idea to have your son and his friends as the extras – he'll love it!' But I heard her all right. I could probably hear her 100 yards away, just speaking in her usual voice. There was something about firsts that always made you hear what they had to say. Something to do with consequences and all hell breaking loose, and being ever so slightly terrified of them at all times – something like that.

I turned back. She wasn't looking at me but at the ground. There, just behind Henry's anguished stomping feet, was my phone, the screen all lit up and blindingly bloody obviously
on
. Oh crap.

I scooped it up, fumbling to press the off switch.

‘Oops,' I said, cringing. The first didn't say a thing; she didn't have to. Her look, cutting straight through my flaky ex-boyfriend-stalking bullshit was cold and clear. Sort it out, Sam. Now.

MARA

Kate kissed Rosie and Luke as they sat on either side of Ed like two wriggling bookends.

‘Kids, listen to me – you be good kids for Aunty Mara and Uncle Ed,' she said, trying to get one of them at least to look her in the eye. ‘Lights out at half past seven, no later!'

‘You're in the way, Mum,' Luke whined. He tried peering around her to see the television.

‘Charming.' Kate gave up and turned to me. I was standing in the doorway, watching the little scene with amusement. ‘There's a treat in the tin for you two in the kitchen and wine somewhere. Cook yourselves whatever you want. Sorry I haven't got anything prepared,' she said to me, glancing at the book I was holding. ‘They might not want to read, Mars, not when the telly's on, sorry.'

‘I'll give it my best shot. Anyway, Ed will listen, won't you?' I said, waving the book at the sofa. ‘It's
The Tiger Who Came to Tea
!'

‘Ooooh, my favourite!'

‘Favewit! Favewit!' Rosie chorused and jumped up and down next to Ed.

‘Well, that one might work,' Kate conceded. ‘She's completely obsessed with cats at the moment.'

‘See? Now push off out of here before you're late, don't worry about us.'

We walked to the front door together.

‘Have you heard from Dad lately?' she asked, pulling on a rose coat that hugged her slim frame.

‘No, have you?'.

‘Not a squeak. It's like he doesn't have grandchildren,' she said bitterly.

I took her arm. ‘Don't take it personally. You know he just shut down after Mum left. He isn't in touch with anyone, it's not just you.'

‘I know.' Kate threw her handbag over her shoulder, frowning. ‘I just worry about him.'

‘There's only so much we can do, Katie.'

‘I suppose so.'

‘Ed hasn't seen him properly yet. When he does I'll tag along and check in on him, how about that? Now, you stop your worrying.'

‘I'll try.' Kate opened the door. ‘Thanks for everything.'

‘There's just one thing I need to tell you,' I said.

‘Yes?' Kate turned, still looking worried.

‘You look beautiful.'

Kate's pretty face broke into a smile, her chin falling to her chest in the bashful expression she'd carried over from childhood. I hugged her. Dear little Kate, she deserved the best after the crap she'd endured through the break-up with Martin, that slimy excuse for a human being.

A little under an hour later, I was starting to envy Kate's night out.

‘Upstairs now, Rosie. No more arguing.' Was that the millionth time I had said that, or the millionth and one? Rosie responded by jumping from one sofa to the next, squealing in delight. I was sure I had never seen the kids so wound up, thanks to Ed. There I was thinking it would be a perfect opportunity for having a heart to heart with him by bringing him babysitting with me. What a joke.

‘Come on!'

Squeal, squeal, squeal.

‘Ed, can you grab her? This is all your fault.'

‘How so, sis?'

‘Don't call me that!'

Ed tucked Rosie under one arm and left the room.

I stared at his back disappearing up the stairs. When exactly did he become so annoying?

Eventually I had Ed to myself. I pushed aside the domestic detritus on the table to make two plate-sized spaces. A plastic duck hovered close to the side of the table. I considered moving it but decided, on balance, that I was too exhausted to care. I'd assumed the kids would get less tiring as they got older, but it appeared the opposite was true. How did Kate cope? I sat down and groaned.

Thankfully Ed put a plate of food in front of me in record time. My favourite slap-up supper – poached eggs on toast. And look, the dear thing had tarted them up with chilli.

‘Sorry if I was grumpy before.'

‘It doesn't matter.' Ed smiled reassuringly. In a light voice – as if it didn't matter at all – he added, ‘Rebecca came by today.'

‘What?' The idea of that piece of work sneaking around my home outside chaperone hours almost had me shouting.

‘She thought she'd left something behind, an address book, I think she said.'

‘Riiiight . . .' My fork still hovered over my food. I hoped Ed's story was going to get better.

‘She's a strange girl, isn't she?' he said.

I exhaled and stabbed my knife through the egg and toast. ‘Strange is one word you could use. I could think of several others more pertinent.'

Ed picked up the plastic duck and turned it over in his hand.

‘It was almost as if the address book was just an excuse to come round . . .'

You don't say. I knew I had to pick my words carefully. ‘She was being very friendly with you the other night,' I said finally, not quite able to meet his eye.

‘She was,' Ed addressed the fridge. ‘But I'm not actually convinced that was why she was there. I can't quite work it out . . .'

I waited for him to say more but he didn't.

‘Well, you know I don't trust her, Ed. It always feels like she's got some kind of agenda. It usually involves having something over Sam.'

‘Why would she want to do that?' Ed frowned.

‘I really have no idea.'

There was a small silence as I chewed my last mouthful. Ed continued to frown.

‘Ed?' I had to ask him. I just had to.

‘Yes?'

‘What brought you back from India so quickly?'

Ed let out a long sigh and started building a tower. I waited. I knew trying to hurry him wouldn't help. On the bottom went two pieces of oversized orange Lego, followed by a stack of junk mail, a book and a small bag of lentils. The plastic duck was placed on top.

‘It's a long story.'

‘I'm not going anywhere.'

He looked at me and sighed again.

‘I thought that going away would make things better . . .'

But he got no further. From the top of the stairs came the sound of Luke roaring.

‘Rosie, you can't poo there!'

ED

‘Grab that table, Ed. I'll get us some food.' Claudia pointed to somewhere right over on the other side of the café. I looked across the sea of office workers and took a deep breath before wading in. As I wove between tables, it became very obvious to me, and most likely the entire bloody café, that I was the only man in the room not suited and booted. The men's glances only grazed me as I passed them. He's obviously not worth networking with, I could hear them thinking. But perhaps I was being unfair. They probably weren't even thinking about work at all. In fact, the conversations I heard snatches of were mostly about games played at the weekend. Of course they were. But the women were different. I could feel their glances burning holes through the back of my trousers. I was a bit of rough standing out in all the suits. Ha! That improved my mood.

Claudia brought over a mountain of food.

‘Thanks! What do I owe you?' I asked her.

‘Absolutely not, this is my treat.'

I knew better than to argue. Claudia is aggressively generous and there is no point fighting it.

‘So what brings you down here? I presume it's not the fishing?' she asked as she passed me a plate.

‘You're right. Although if I was in the mood, Canary Wharf wouldn't be a bad place for it,' I said, bending my head to a table of women nearby.

‘I didn't know you were into the polished variety, Ed. Wouldn't have picked them as your type at all.'

‘No. You're right.' Of course she was. She usually was, which is why Claudia was such a good person to talk to. She didn't bend anything to make it easier to hear.

‘But it has been a long time between drinks, has it not?' Claudia asked.

Oh, and she never edged around a topic.

‘It's Sam,' I said.

‘I thought so.'

‘Have I been that obvious?'

Claudia put down her sandwich and looked at me with pity. I didn't like the look of that at all. ‘Do you want an honest answer?'

‘I suppose so.' Yes, of course I did, but for a moment I wasn't sure if I was ready for whatever she had to say at all.

‘It's obvious to me but I'm not entirely sure if Sam has figured it out yet.'

I supposed that was a good thing in some ways, but the whole reason for coming back from India so quickly was to see if she would notice, wasn't it? The café clattered with chatter and metal on china and suddenly it seemed too loud in there, like everyone else was having important conversations, living their important lives, while I was there to ask my friend a question that had no point to it at all. It was obvious Sam was never going to look at me as important, never see me as central in her life. I would remain on the outside, just like my scruffiness set me apart in this company. Suddenly all I wanted to do was leave.

‘Tell me what you want to know, Ed. You can't come all this way and then look terrified.' Claudia reached out and laid a hand on my sleeve, as if she knew she had to keep me sitting there for a few more minutes.

‘Why can you read me so easily?' I said.

‘It's a gift, one of my few.' Claudia grinned at me. Was I seeing things or could I see a hint of sadness behind that smile? Maybe, maybe not. But she was right – I did have to ask her.

‘I wondered if you knew who she was seeing,' I managed to say, my voice coming out all quiet and uncertain.

Claudia raised her eyebrows at me, took another bite of her sandwich and chewed it slowly. I tried again.

‘She was out really late on Saturday with someone . . .' My voice petered out. I sounded like a petulant child who wasn't getting what I wanted, which I was really.

Claudia finally put down her sandwich.

‘Are you asking me to tell you something that Sam told me in confidence?'

‘So you know?' My heart beat faster.

Claudia sighed.

‘Ed, I will tell you, only because you're going to have to be patient with this one. He's a biggie.'

‘A biggie?' I didn't like the sound of that.

‘Her first love.'

I racked my brain for a name.

‘Charles Hugh-Barrington. Otherwise known as Charlie. Saw him in her last year at college.'

It wasn't ringing any bells but all the same my hands suddenly felt slick.

‘Ed.' Claudia reached across the table for the second time. ‘I don't know what's going to happen with this but I've got a feeling that Sam might need to get him out of her system. And she may never move on from him,' she added.

I looked at the cheesecake I knew I couldn't possibly eat.

‘Were you finally going to do something about her?' she asked me.

‘About who?' said a woman's voice.

Out of nowhere, standing next to our table, was Rebecca.

‘Jesus!' I recoiled from her.

‘Sorry, didn't mean to give you a fright!' What was with this girl? She was everywhere.

‘What are you doing here?' Claudia asked.

‘I work here!' She was glowing with pride.

‘You do?'

‘Yes and apparently you know my boss? A certain John Morgan?'

Claudia looked shocked. ‘You're his new PA?'

‘That's me! Exciting, isn't it? Mind if I join you? You could dish all the dirt on him.'

‘Actually . . .' Claudia stood up and shot me an apologetic look. ‘I've got to get back. Have my seat.'

‘Oh are you sure?' But Rebecca sat down before I'd even had time to blink, let alone say goodbye to Claudia. This was too much to take in. Now I really had to get as far away as I could from this hive of chirpy office workers, particularly the one beaming at me across the table.

‘I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?' Rebecca asked brightly.

I started getting out of my chair.

‘Actually, I really need to go. Sorry. Running late.' It was completely against my nature to be so rude but I really couldn't do this.

Rebecca looked a bit shocked but then stood with me.

‘Of course, sorry, I shouldn't have just barged in like that.'

‘Oh you didn't, honestly, I just have to go.'

Rebecca motioned to my food. ‘You've hardly eaten anything.'

‘You can have it!'

Rebecca looked blank. Of course she wouldn't eat my leftover food. God, this was awkward.

‘I mean . . .'

Rebecca smiled brightly. ‘Look, you go, Ed, but before you do I was just this moment wondering who might come to a party I've been invited to on Friday night.'

I was doing a bad job of putting my jacket on. I couldn't seem to negotiate my left arm into the armhole. I was distracted. I was in a hurry.

‘Oh, right.'

‘Would you like to come with me?'

She totally nailed it. All I could answer, before my mouth could engage with my brain was – ‘Sure, sounds great. See you soon.'