37. Nell
37
NELL
For a millisecond, I think I might be able to duck back out before they see me.
But unfortunately, in the millisecond that follows, they both turn around. Which is why I end up lurching backwards, then stopping abruptly, and slopping what was left of my tea all over the floor in the process.
I try to say, ‘Oh, hi!’ and, ‘Oh no!’ at the same time, and it comes out sounding like ‘Ohio!’ Great. Apparently, I am now greeting colleagues by dumping hot liquid on the floor and then shouting out US states at random.
‘Hey, Nell! Ah, let me help you!’
Charlie takes a wad of kitchen paper and kneels down in front of me. I grab a tea towel, drop down beside him and start cleaning too.
‘Thanks,’ I say, my stomach swooping as our tea-sponging hands touch for a second.
‘No worries.’ He raises his eyebrows at me. His cheeks are pink – he looks a little flustered. ‘How you doing?’
‘Good!’
‘You remember Daphne, from Thursday night?’
We both look up to see Daphne smiling down at us, looking mildly amused by the whole scenario.
‘Of course! Hi!’ My voice comes out slightly higher-pitched than I would like.
Daphne blows the steam off her tea and gives me a casual wave. ‘Hey.’
Charlie stands up and chucks the damp kitchen roll in the bin.
‘Did you have fun on Thursday?’ Daphne asks me.
‘Yeah – it was great. Those cocktails were deadly though.’
‘Mm-hm, I was fucking hanging on Friday morning,’ she sighs. ‘That magician was awesome too. And the photo booth was fun . . .’
Charlie splutters on the sip of coffee he’s just taken. He coughs and wipes his mouth as we both look at him. ‘Sorry.’
Daphne steps towards the door. ‘I was going to say, some of us lot from marketing and publicity are going out again tomorrow night,’ she says, looking at Charlie. ‘You should come.’ And then her eyes flick to me, as if she’s just remembered I’m still here. ‘You should both come.’
‘Oh . . . yeah. Sounds good!’ Charlie says.
‘Definitely.’ I nod, though the idea of spending a whole night watching Daphne fondle his biceps again is not super-appealing.
‘Cool.’ She flashes a smile at Charlie and then she’s gone.
Charlie starts pouring water from the kettle into the coffee pot. ‘That could be fun?’ he says, with his back to me.
‘Yeah, I’m up for it.’ I grab the teabags, still feeling flustered and nervy and wishing I’d had a bit more time to prepare before seeing him again. I’m so desperate to know if there’s actually anything going on between him and Daphne. Did they hook up on Thursday? Was he lying on Saturday when he said he was going to meet his mum? Was he actually meeting Daphne instead?
They definitely looked pretty cosy when I walked in a second ago. Or am I just imagining that? Maybe they were just making awkward small talk like everyone does in the office kitchen.
Charlie offers me the kettle. ‘Hey, how was the rest of your weekend with Will?’ he asks.
‘So good.’ I grin. ‘He actually let me do some boring big-sister tourist stuff after we finally left the skatepark. We went on the London Eye, to the Aquarium, got ice creams on the South Bank. And then yesterday we went for an amazing brunch with my flatmates. I really think he had fun – and he messaged me when he got home last night to say he’s already on a group chat with those kids he met at the skatepark.’ I take a sip of my tea and add, ‘Thanks to you.’
Charlie looks down at the floor. ‘Ah, it wasn’t thanks to me. He was always going to find his people. He’s a good . . .’ He furrows his brow. ‘I was gonna say “kid”, but that’s a bit patronising, isn’t it? “Such a good lad”? But he’s not really a “lad” either, in the oi-oi-banter sense of the word.’
I laugh. ‘What about “young adult”?’
He nods, grinning. ‘That works. He’s such a good young adult.’
‘Perfect. Doesn’t sound creepy and robotic in the slightest.’
‘Interns!’ We both turn around to see Bishi standing in the doorway. She beckons us with a freshly manicured finger. ‘Have you got five minutes?’
Charlie takes the coffee pot into the writers’ room, and then joins me in front of Bishi’s desk, just outside the nook.
Bishi peers at us over her monitor. ‘OK, so, as you may already know, Tom Hiddleston dropped out of hosting this week, and we’ve got a fairly underwhelming last-minute replacement, in the shape of Gulliver White.’
‘Who?’ I ask.
‘Well, precisely,’ Bishi shoots back. ‘So, I’ve been talking to our talent booker to see if we can add a few more celebrity names to this week’s line-up. Bolster it with some pre-recorded A-list interview segments.’ She takes a sip of her coffee. ‘We’ve managed to wrangle some interview time with two pretty big names – first, Max Ribiero.’
Charlie and I exchange glances – he really is a big name. He’s a young British actor whose career suddenly exploded last year after the action franchise he’s in took off. I read recently that he’s in talks to be the lead in Christopher Nolan’s next film. He’s even started popping up on those ‘Who Should Be the Next James Bond?’ lists.
‘And second,’ Bishi says, ‘we’ve got Kay DeBlue, the comedian.’
‘Oh my God, I love her!’ The sentence comes blurting out of my mouth before I can stop it, and I feel Charlie laugh next to me. Kay DeBlue is a legend though – one of my absolute favourite stand-ups.
Bishi tilts her head at me and smiles. ‘OK . . . Well, I thought we’d have to toss a coin, but that settles it. Nell, you take Kay, and Charlie, you take Max.’
‘Wait . . .’ Charlie stares at her. ‘We’re going to do the interviews?’
Bishi nods. ‘We thought it would be a nice challenge for you both. Plus, Kay and Max are apparently only available early in the morning on Wednesday, and none of the writers like to get up before ten.’
I laugh. I can’t believe it. I’m going to meet – to interview – Kay DeBlue! I must have watched her most recent Netflix special fifty times. She’s up there with Talia, Lisa McGee and Michaela Coel on my personal comedy Mount Rushmore.
‘Max is filming a movie at Pinewood Studios and his team say they can squeeze us in before shooting starts on Wednesday morning,’ Bishi says. ‘So, Charlie, you’ll meet your camera team there at about half past eight.’ She turns to me. ‘And Kay is doing press for her book of short stories, but she’s got a midday flight on Wednesday, so Nell, you’ll meet her at her publisher’s HQ at eight on the dot.’
‘Amazing,’ I say. ‘Thanks, Bishi, I can’t wait.’
She stands up, indicating the meeting is over. ‘I’ll put all this stuff in an email to you both. Could you guys spend this morning working up a few questions for your interviewees, and then email them over to me and Nate?’
Charlie and I nod. As we stand up too, the door of the writers’ room opens behind us, and I hear the staff spill back out into the nook. I say goodbye to Charlie, and head back to my desk, already composing my Kay questions in my head.
‘Nell.’
I turn around to see Talia hurrying towards me down the corridor.
‘Hey!’ I say. ‘You’ll never guess who I’m going to interview on Wednesday –’
‘Kay DeBlue, love that for you, she’s a legend,’ she says quickly. ‘But, look, I’ve got some important intel I need to share with you.’ She comes closer and lowers her voice. ‘Nate just mentioned in the meeting that it’s been approved in the budget for us to hire a writers’ assistant next month . . .’
I feel my heart thump. Writers’ assistant is traditionally the role an intern lands straight after their internship. I know for a fact it’s the job Talia got offered when she finished her work experience placement here. And now, three years later, she’s a fully paid-up writer.
‘Shit,’ I hiss. ‘So . . . should I talk to Nate? Do I need to officially apply, or something?’
Talia shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. They rarely make outside hirings round here – Dust in Sunlight likes to promote from within. I mean, in a normal year, you’d be the only intern, so you’d be the only candidate for the job. But this year . . .’ She glances behind her, back to the writers’ nook. Back to where Charlie is sitting. And then she looks back at me. ‘Me and Kerri and the others will keep talking you up, and keep insisting that you come into the writers’ meetings too. And you just keep smashing it with ideas and sketches and whatever else Bishi has got you doing.’
I nod. ‘OK.’
She puts a hand on my shoulder and smiles. ‘It should be you, Nell. I hope it’s you.’