The Funny Thing About Love

25. Nell

25

NELL

‘So, what are you in the mood for, Nell? Fish and chips? Burger? Champagne and beluga caviar? It’s all on the Punching Up credit card.’

Nate holds the door of the office building open for me, and I step out into the fresh air. ‘Erm, I don’t mind,’ I tell him. ‘Whatever you fancy.’

He nods. ‘OK, let’s head this way.’

I follow him, nodding along to the small talk he’s making about the number of new hipster restaurants that have opened round here lately. But to be honest most of my consciousness is still back there in the corridor, reeling from what just happened.

Did Charlie Francombe just . . . ask me out?

I mean, he said it was just to say thank you to me for saving his skin with Jed. But the way he tousled his hair and blushed and stumbled over his words like a character in a Richard Curtis movie told me there was another motive behind it. Thank God Nate had randomly shown up – otherwise I have no idea what I would have done. The rational part of me would surely have remembered that he was a desk-stealing, dream-trampling nepo baby and told him ‘No’. But the increasingly large non-rational part of me – the part that went worryingly gooey when he said I was ‘incredible’ . . . Well, I’m not sure what that part would have done. Like I say: thank God Nate showed up.

In the end I just mumbled, ‘See you later then,’ at Charlie, and headed straight off with Nate. I didn’t even risk a look back at his face. Just turned away and kept walking.

So, now I’m following my boss as we weave in and out of the maze of Limehouse office workers on their lunch-breaks, wondering what exactly this ‘quick chat’ is all about.

I’ve totally zoned out from what Nate is saying, and I make a concerted effort to push Charlie Francombe entirely out of my head. I need to focus right now. This is actually a pretty big deal. Nate isn’t my hero in the same way Talia is – I don’t obsess over every word of his sketches. But he’s still the showrunner on my favourite show. The person who – in three weeks’ time – might or might not decide whether I get a full-time job here. Due to Charlie’s desk-pilfering, I’ve barely even had any direct contact with Nate. I need to take this chance to impress him.

We stop outside a pub, and he nods at the door. ‘This place does a mean steak pie.’

‘Yeah, sounds good!’

We head to the bar, and Nate pulls out his wallet. ‘Pint of Guinness, please, mate,’ he tells the barman. ‘Nell, what are you having?’

‘Erm . . .’ Am I supposed to have alcohol too? I don’t want to look like a little kid ordering a soft drink, but I am also one of Planet Earth’s biggest lightweights. One glass of wine and I’ll be showing Nate my Meryl Streep impression before falling asleep at my desk. I instantly decide Little Kid is probably preferable to Drunken Mess. ‘I’ll just have an orange juice, please.’

We both order the steak pie and then find a table out in the sun-soaked beer garden. Nate raises his glass at me, and I clink it with mine. ‘So, cheers, Nell,’ he says. ‘I just thought that I – we, the team – owed you at least a steak pie and orange juice for what you did this morning. I’m not kidding – that was superhero stuff. Thank you.’

I feel a tingle down the back of my neck at his compliment. ‘No problem! I’m so glad it worked.’

‘How did you even know how to delete that file?’ he asks.

‘I knew Jed was this week’s host, so I spent Sunday doing some research on him. Just to see if it inspired any ideas for sketches, or anything.’

Nate raises his eyebrows at me and leans back in his chair. He looks impressed. ‘Well, look, aside from saying thanks for saving the show’s arse, I also just wanted to check in and see how you’re getting on here.’ He takes a sip of his Guinness, and adds, ‘We’ve not had much time to connect, with you sitting all the way out there in the IT department. It’s a bit weird for us, having two interns. We don’t normally do it like this.’

‘Mm-hm, right.’ I reach for my orange juice, very much hoping he might expand on this.

‘But are you getting on OK?’ he asks. ‘Settling in? Having fun?’

‘I really am, thank you. It’s been amazing.’

He nods. ‘Because, obviously, I read your sketch packet when you applied. It really showed promise. I mean – that’s why you’re here! Hopefully we’ll be able to start getting you into the meetings more often, and you can start throwing ideas in too, if you’ve got them.’

I involuntarily swallow an ice cube at that. ‘Wow. Yeah. That would be great! I just – I love the show so much. It’s always been my dream to be here.’

I flush, worrying I’ve gone a bit too fangirly – but also because Nate smiles and reaches forward to lightly touch my knee. ‘Ah, you’re sweet to say that.’ He withdraws his hand and takes another gulp of Guinness. ‘But I get it. And that kind of passion is exactly what we need here.’ He pauses to scratch at his stubbly beard. ‘It’s a bit early yet to say whether there’ll be an opening for a longer-term position at the end of this internship. But obviously it’s a possibility. Like I say, with the two-interns thing it’s a bit complicated right now. But when I know more I’ll let you both know.’

Complicated?What does that mean? And the phrase ‘an opening’ . . . Singular. One job. Two interns.

I’m just about to ask Nate more when he says, ‘Actually, on the subject of throwing out sketch ideas, if your Jed research did happen to drum up any thoughts, then now’s the time. We’re up shit creek at the present moment, since Old Astroturf Head knocked all of ours back.’

Another tingle down the back of my neck. I did actually have an idea straight after that meeting. As soon as I got back to my desk I even opened a Word doc and started toying around with it. Is it actually any good though? I haven’t yet run the Dad Check on it, but thinking about it now, I’m pretty sure Dad would have been into it. Unlike Charlie, I’m not sitting right next to Nate eight hours a day, so who knows if I’ll get a chance like this again. I have to take it.

‘Well, I did actually have a thought for a sketch based on what happened in that meeting with the scooter.’

Nate takes another sip of Guinness. ‘Go on . . .’

‘Well, those scooters sense physical damage, right? So, I was thinking we could do a spoof advert for a new one that Jed has invented, which senses emotional damage.’ Nate snuffles into his pint and I keep going. ‘So, like, the scooter would sense whenever someone was slagging you off, or bitching about you, and it lets out a high-pitched alarm or sends a signal to your phone, or something?’

Nate dabs at his Guinness ’tache with a napkin and looks straight at me. ‘I like that. A lot.’

This time it’s more than a tingle – it’s a rush. The actual showrunner of Punching Up telling me he likes my sketch idea! I almost jump out of my chair. ‘I’ve already started writing it up,’ I gabble. ‘I could send it to you to see what you thought?’

‘Yeah. Mail me that over when you get back to your desk this afternoon.’

‘Cool! Will do!’ As I take another slurp of orange juice, I allow myself to briefly imagine my sketch actually making it onto the show. Imagine seeing my name in the credits . . . It makes me giddy just to think of it. Talia’s advice from a few days ago pops back into my head. You are impressing us, Nell. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and people will notice.

Our food arrives, and as we tuck in, Nate starts telling me all about the ins and outs of his job – the stress of running the team, having to be the middleman between the writers and the execs upstairs, having to play nice with the guest hosts and the difficultly of coming up with sketches they’re willing to perform, which are also funny.

He gets up to order another pint of Guinness, and when he comes back he even confides to me that he thinks Rich is a ‘lazy bastard’ who isn’t really good enough to be on the staff. I nod along, barely able to get a word in edgeways. I’m desperate to ask him so many things: whether I can start coming to meetings every day, like Charlie; what Nate meant when he said the job situation was ‘complicated’; whether, if there does end up being a job opening, Charlie and I will be in direct competition for it. But Nate just keeps talking. He’s midway through a long spiel about Anna’s and Noah’s various weaknesses as writers when, just to lighten the mood, I say, ‘Talia seems really cool though.’

Nate pops a chip in his mouth and chuckles. ‘Yeah, Old T-Double-J. She’s a great writer, no doubt about that.’ He pauses and strokes his goatee. ‘But she can be a bit . . .’

‘What?’ I ask when he tails off.

‘No, nothing.’ He drains the last dregs of his pint. ‘Just that she can be a bit bitchy. A bit back-bitey. Especially with younger writers.’ He gives me a meaningful nod. ‘Just something to watch out for, that’s all.’

‘OK . . .’ I’m a bit nonplussed by that. So far, Talia has been nothing but unbelievably kind and supportive to me. But I guess Nate knows her better than I do.

He pushes his empty plate away and sighs. ‘Right, I’d better head, Nell. We really have got shitloads to do if we’re going to get the show shipshape for our Zoom pitch to Jed tomorrow morning. Probably gonna have to pull an all-nighter tonight . . .’

‘Oh wow.’ We stand up and head for the exit. ‘Well, if there’s anything you need from me, just let me know,’ I tell him as we leave. ‘I’m happy to stay late too if you guys need me.’

He smiles. ‘Thanks, Nell. And, hey – send me that sketch idea when you get back.’

‘Yeah, of course! Thanks so much for lunch. It was great.’

‘Not a prob. Let’s do it again soon. Hey, I’ll say goodbye here. I’m gonna nip to the shop for some fags.’

‘OK, cool.’ I raise my hand in a wave, but Nate stretches his arms out and hugs me. ‘Oh. Oh-kay.’ Wasn’t expecting that. I pat his back and feel his wiry beard prickle against my ear.

‘Great to chat properly,’ he says. ‘I feel like we actually know each other a bit now. Which is how it should be.’

‘Um . . . yeah. Definitely.’

He pulls away and beams at me again. ‘See you back at the office.’