Waiting for Callback (9 page)

‘Did you hear that, Stella? Hang on, I’ll put you on speaker.’

‘Pretty advanced.’ Stella’s voice sounded tinny. ‘It’s for a European co-production; they seem to be taking their mime pretty seriously.’

‘I could learn?’

‘No, it’s for something that’s shooting next week. The girl that they cast has broken her arm.’

I could see how that would get in the way of the miming.

‘Could I wing it?’ I asked.

Stella laughed. ‘No, Elektra, you definitely could not wing it. But I appreciate the enthusiasm. Don’t worry, there’ll be other non-mimey roles. I’ll be in touch.’
And she rang off.

‘Oh, well,’ said Mum, ‘I’ve never been a big fan of mime.’

Me neither but that really was missing the point.

‘Come on, I’ll run the
Straker
lines with you before I get changed.’

‘Seriously, Eulalie, you have to help me,’ I pleaded, opening the door to her (Mum, perfectly styled, had already gone to meet Dad).

‘Of course I am helping you,’ said Eulalie, putting down two large shiny Selfridges bags and kissing me on both cheeks (twice). ‘What is the emergency?’

‘I need to run my lines for the
Straker
audition. Mum’s been driving me mad because she keeps doing it with a weird accent and with
actions
.’ For someone that
didn’t like mime, she used a lot of gestures.

‘I too will be doing it with a weird accent, but no actions I am promising.’

‘Yes, but it will be your own weird accent and not some strange actor-y thing. Do you want me to make you coffee?’

‘Can you do a tiny little espresso, please?’

‘I don’t think I can,’ I said, looking at the kettle and the ground coffee.

She glanced at her watch. ‘A tiny glass of wine?’ That I could do. I poured her a large glass and we went to get comfy in the sitting room.

‘What is he being about, this
Straker
?’

‘I don’t know very much, but it’s crazy exciting. Basically, the world has all but ended and Straker – who’s my character . . . well, the character I’m up for
– is all, like, super traumatized and complex. She has a romance with Jan, who’s the son of the chief of the Warri tribe, and they’re basically responsible for the survival of the
human race or something like that.’

Eulalie looked confused which was fair enough.

‘Look, it’s not in the gritty realism genre.’ I handed her the scene I had to prepare. ‘Have a read.’

‘So, you are wanting me to play this fierce Winona?’

‘Yes, please.’

We ran through it a couple of times. I was word perfect, but that wasn’t very impressive because I only had fourteen words and I’d been practising non-stop since Stella had sent them
through four days ago.

‘Do you think I’ve got the disgust down well?’ I asked. I should have. I was borderline phobic about maggots and in denial about acting with them (if you can act
‘with’ a maggot).

‘Yes, you are very revolting,’ said Eulalie. ‘I am not understanding this.’

‘What bit?’ I asked her.

‘The bugs,’ she said.

‘It’s because there’s been a big eco-disaster and they’re, like, practically the only survivors and there’s no food – well, no Sainsbury’s or anything
– so they have to eat bugs to survive.’

‘I am understanding
that
,’ she said. ‘But bugs are
délicieuse
!’

‘No, I don’t think they are,’ I said with some certainty.

‘Have you ever eaten them?’

‘No.’ Obviously not.

‘Ah, you are missing something,
chérie
. The maggoty ones like these are sort of mushroomy and nutty; crickets, they are more crunchy, like little prawns in their
shells.’

‘How do you even know this?’ Anyway, I didn’t like mushrooms or nuts.

‘One of the most romantic nights of my life was sitting under the stars in a beach bar in Mexico, eating bugs. I was with Sebastian. He was very, very handsome.’

I’m sure he was; they always were. ‘I wouldn’t eat bugs for any guy,’ I said. Not even Archie (but I didn’t say that out loud).

‘Not
for
a man,
chérie
,
with
a man. It is not AT ALL the same thing.’

‘Still no,’ I said firmly.

‘We can do a googly on bug recipes?’ she suggested hopefully, getting out her iPad.

‘Better not.’ I didn’t want to look at hundreds of Google images of bugs, cooked or not. ‘I can’t start imagining that Winona is serving me a delicacy or I’m
going to totally muck this scene up. This is a dystopian, miserable, messed-up meal scene, not a Mexican seduction. Can we do it one more time?’

‘Perfect,’ Eulalie said when we’d finished. ‘So, what are the costumes being like? This can be a problem with these end-of-the-world movies; sometimes
the costumes are not so good.’

‘I think if you’re eating maggots there probably isn’t a functioning department store’ I said. ‘Will you do my French homework for me?’

‘
Bien sûr
, but fill up my glass because French grammar is so very, very stressful.’

I went out to the kitchen to get the bottle of wine for her; it seemed like a fair bargain. As I walked back into the room, I saw her shaking her head over my exercise book, ‘
Non, non,
non!
This is terrible!’

‘What?’ Had she stumbled over my 37 per cent test result on the imperfect subjunctive?

‘This is a very bad comprehension,’ she said. ‘Marianne is in the
supermarché
doing the shopping for her
maman
and it is saying here that Marianne is
buying
quatre pommes
. This is not possible. She has
trois frères et deux soeurs
: plainly, she is needing many more than
quatre pommes
.’

‘They never make any sense,’ I said. ‘Last week there was a whole page on “having fun babysitting”; nobody ever has fun babysitting.’

My phone barked. It was Moss.

BuzzFeed has spoken

And what has BuzzFeed said?

I’ll be in a ‘meaningful relationship’ within three months

Yeah, right

BuzzFeed is never wrong

She attached a pic. Yep, her quiz results were pretty conclusive.

BuzzFeed is sometimes wrong. It said I was a Ravenclaw and I’m obvs a Hufflepuff.

True, but I’m cautiously optimistic. What are you up to?

Doing French homework with Eulalie

You mean Eulalie is doing your French homework?

Yes

Would she do mine? The long exercise on comparative and superlative adverbs, p.79 of textbook. It starts (appropriately) with ‘I have the worst teacher in the
school’.

We were in different sets for French because Moss was less hopeless than me. ‘Eulalie, will you do Moss’s French homework too?’

‘Of course,
chérie
. Just pour me a little tiny extra glass of wine.’

• Only a little bit distracted by Christmas and New Year.

• No good parties (not even any bad parties).

• Number of auditions: 0.

From:
Jonathan Tibble, Deputy Head, Berkeley Academy

Date:
6 January 16:01

To:
Parents of Year 10; Parents of Year 11; Parents of Year 12; Parents of Year 13

Subject:
Social with St John’s School, 9 January

Dear Parents,

I hope that everyone enjoyed the festive season and that the girls are rested and ready for a productive term.

The PTA has emailed details for this year’s social (this Friday, 9 January). I would encourage all the girls to attend, as mixed, friendly events are an
important chance to develop social skills and our association with St John’s School is longstanding.

That said, I would like to take this chance to remind you (and ask you to remind your daughters) that
our expectations are that the girls will behave as well
at the social event as at any other school event
. In particular, I would like to stress the strict Berkeley Academy rules regarding alcohol, cigarettes, etc. (I refer you to the School
Handbook).

Whilst I am optimistic that all will go well, poor behaviour will incur sanctions.

Best wishes,

Mr Tibble

Berkeley Academy: Believing and Achieving since 1964

Moss was leaning off the edge of the bed, trying to mouth-hoover up dropped Maltesers that were just a bit too far away.

‘You look like a stingray.’

‘What? Why? Do stingrays wear neon leg warmers? Is it the blue eyeshadow? It
is
the blue eyeshadow, isn’t it?’ Moss had come over to mine to get ready for the social. It
was eighties-themed which explained the neon leg warmers and the eyeshadow. In so far as they could ever be explained.