The Funny Thing About Love

30. Charlie

30

CHARLIE

‘OK, Charlie – the audience are all going in now. You can find a seat somewhere at the back if you like.’

It’s half past seven on Thursday and the show is about to start. I’ve spent the last hour helping Bishi to shepherd the 200-strong studio audience into something resembling a straight line as they queue up outside the building. But now they’re all shuffling in, and Bishi is directing me to a viewing spot right at the back.

The crowd are murmuring excitedly as they file into their seats. The stage is unlit, but already decorated with the show’s logo and various props, and there are a few camera operators milling about in front of it, making their final adjustments. I head up the stairs and towards the back of the studio, scanning the audience for Nell. I haven’t seen her since yesterday, and I’m weirdly anxious about seeing her again.

I feel like she’s seen another side to me now – a side I’ve desperately been trying to hide from her. I’m not sure if I should acknowledge how awkward I was around Nick, or just pretend it never happened. Maybe she didn’t even notice it. Maybe no one notices these things apart from me.

The coffee with Nick was awful. He took me to some ridiculously expensive hipster place near the office, where he splurged about twenty quid on fancy pastries, and then proceeded to waffle on about how ‘madly busy’ his week had been, and how he couldn’t wait to unwind at the golf course on Saturday. He didn’t ask how I was getting on. He didn’t even ask after Mum. I must have said ten words the entire time.

But the worst moment was as we were leaving, when he suddenly whipped out his phone for a ‘cheeky selfie’. I’d checked his Instagram an hour later, and it was already up: the two of us smiling at the camera, as if we were best mates. As far back as I can remember, Nick has been taking these ‘cheeky selfies’ at the end of our increasingly rare meet-ups. I know from experience that these pictures aren’t for me. They aren’t even for him. They’re for everyone else. They’re a reputation-enhancer. They’re the way he wants the world to see him. As a Great Dad.

As I scan the crowd for any sign of Nell, I find myself wondering if Nick might be somewhere in here too. I have no idea if he even comes to the recordings. I can’t see him anywhere though. Same goes for Nell.

I find a free seat right at the back of the studio and settle in. Surely Nell will show up at some point? This is her favourite show – she’s hardly going to miss the live recording of it. As the last members of the audience filter in through the main doors, I ponder how exactly I’ll act when I finally see her. But then I hear the back door open, and suddenly she’s right beside me.

‘Hey,’ she says.

‘Hey! How’s it going?’

Her knee brushes mine as she gets comfy in the seat next to me. Was that by accident or on purpose? I feel my face flush. This is getting ridiculous.

‘Good,’ she says. ‘Just been on TikTok and Instagram duties all day. How’s your day been?’

The lights dim, and all around us voices drop to whisper-level. I follow their lead as I answer her question. ‘Not too bad, cheers. Had to do some audience wrangling with Bishi. And before that I was helping one of the props guys glue together those instruments we found for the keytar sketch.’

‘Oh, cool. So they’re using that sketch?’

‘Think so. If Jed Dickhead Greening hasn’t scrapped it . . .’

I spotted him a few times in the corridor this morning, barking into his phone between dress rehearsals while various members of the writing staff glowered at him from afar.

‘Hey – are you going to this thing tonight?’ I ask Nell.

‘The interns’ networking event?’ She nods. ‘I think we kind of have to, right? You?’

‘Definitely.’ Truthfully, my answer was always going to depend on whether she was going or not. The chance to spend more time with her was literally the only reason I was even considering it. ‘Maybe we can head there together once the show’s over?’

‘Sure. Sounds good.’ She gives me a flash of that smile. Then the lights come up and a neon sign above our heads starts flashing the word ‘applause’. We stand up and start clapping with everyone else. It’s showtime.