The Funny Thing About Love

44. Charlie

44

CHARLIE

I sit slumped on a bench outside the office, weighing up whether I should even bother going in.

Wouldn’t it be better to just slope home and crawl back under my duvet? I’m not exactly going to get a hero’s welcome in there. Marek and Sam barely said a word to me in the cab back from Pinewood. The thought of walking into the writers’ nook right now, trying to explain why I just let this week’s big interview slip through my hands, is not appealing.

But I stand up and head for the revolving doors anyway. Of course I’m going in. Because I have to see Nell.

Clearly, she’s OK – Bishi said her Kay DeBlue interview went brilliantly. So what possible reason could there be for her just to walk out like that this morning? I have to find out.

I take a deep breath and step into the building.

As I come out of the lift, I spot Daphne down the other end of the hallway. Luckily, she’s deep in conversation with her dreaded boss, so she doesn’t see me. I scurry off before she gets the chance to turn around. And when I step into the writers’ nook, the first thing I hear is a slow handclap.

‘Here he is . . .’ Rich says, rising from his seat to give me the world’s most sarcastic standing ovation.

‘The new Michael Parkinson,’ Anna murmurs. ‘The new David Frost.’

My face flushes as I try to smile. I’ve known these people long enough to know that just because they’re making jokes, it doesn’t necessarily mean they aren’t angry. They’re always making jokes. That’s literally their job.

Noah glares at me briefly before turning back to his computer. ‘The first rule of Interview Club is: show up to the fucking interview. The second rule of Interview Club is –’

‘Don’t use film references from twenty-five years ago?’ Kerri cuts in. ‘But also: show up to the fucking interview.’

I start to mumble an apology when Nate stands up from his desk and marches over to me. ‘Hey, guys, ease up, yeah? We’ve all done it – had a few too many and then slept through our alarm, even on an important day.’ He slaps me on the back and grins. ‘No worries, Charlie, mate. All good.’

Weirdly, it feels even worse than the spiky jokes. Because, obviously, right now I should be the butt of spiky jokes. I should be getting told off. I should be feeling like total crap. I screwed up. Massively. If any other intern slept through an interview with an A-list actor who was meant to feature on tomorrow’s show, they’d . . . Well, they probably wouldn’t have even been let back in the building.

Nate’s defending me because I’m Nick’s son. I know it, everyone else knows it, and it makes me feel even worse than I already do.

For the rest of the day, everyone pretty much just ignores me. Gulliver White shows up after lunch, and they all troop into the writers’ room to pitch him tomorrow’s sketches. No one asks me to come in, and to be honest I’m kind of glad. I just sit in the nook by myself, listening to the muffled sound of their laughter through the glass, wondering when I can summon the courage to go and see Nell.

I’ve got an email to her typed out and ready to go, asking what happened. My finger hovers over the ‘Send’ button for most of the afternoon. But I never manage to press it.

Finally, 6 p.m. arrives. Nate and Bishi have taken Gulliver down to the studio to meet the actors, and the rest of the writers are still in the room, thrashing out the final sketches. So I grab my bag and steel myself as I walk towards the IT department.

Nell is already stepping away from her desk, saying goodbye to that Jarrod bloke who sits next to her. Her smile dissolves the moment she sees me.

‘Hey,’ I say.

Her face is blank. Totally unreadable. ‘Hey.’

‘So, what . . .’ I’ve been toying with playing it cool, just acting like nothing happened. But in the moment, I can’t do it. I really like this girl – I have to know what was so wrong. ‘What happened?’ I ask her. ‘You were gone when I woke up. I thought we were going to leave together?’

She shrugs and fiddles with the strap on her bag. ‘You had the taxi booked, so I figured they’d call you.’

‘Yeah, but . . .’

She won’t even meet my eye. She’s like a totally different person. The memory of last night comes back to me – the two of us, lying in my bed, naked, wrapped up in each other. Then afterwards, her head on my chest as we spent hours kissing and talking, kissing and talking. Right now, it feels like I just imagined the whole thing. It was honestly one of the best nights of my life. So what’s changed?

‘Nell, I’m really sorry if I did something wrong last night,’ I say. ‘I had such an amazing time with you. If you can just tell me what it is, then –’

She brushes past me. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Francombe.’

And with that, she walks off.

I’m feeling just as confused and despondent when I get back to the flat an hour later.

Going into my room just feels weird. Twelve hours have passed since Nell was in here, and now everything has changed and I don’t understand why. I slouch downstairs to make some dinner. In the living room, I see that my grey Muji jacket has been folded up and laid on the couch. Quite random.

‘Merlin!’ I shout upstairs. ‘Have you been wearing my jacket?’

‘No!’ he calls back. ‘You left it on the floor outside your room, so I put it on the sofa.’

Weird. I don’t remember leaving it there. I haven’t worn it since last week at the interns’ party. I pick up the jacket and something falls out of the pocket.

And that’s when I finally understand.