50. Charlie
50
CHARLIE
I get in super-early on Wednesday morning.
I’ve been awake since 6 a.m. anyway, so I figured I might as well just get up and get going. I’ve barely been able to sleep the past two nights, tossing and turning and thinking about Nell. Wishing I had her bloody phone number so I could just call her. Sending an email is just way too weird. What the hell would I even put as the subject? ‘Thoughts on my apology’? ‘Do you still hate me?’
I’m supposed to have spent the past two days at home beavering away at sketch ideas. But it just doesn’t come naturally to me. I even gave it a proper try for a few hours yesterday – sitting at the kitchen table and refusing to budge until I had something on paper. But nothing came. Nothing good, anyway. It’s clearer to me than ever that this internship – this job – is not what I’m meant to do. I’m not made for it. Nell is.
Last night, sick to death of floundering over failed ideas, my mind drifted back to what Ed said a few nights ago. That month at the summer camp, teaching those kids – that really was the happiest I’d ever been at a job. I idly started googling teaching courses nearby, and before long I’d found at least two that looked pretty decent. My mind kept flickering back to that morning with Nell’s brother. How good it felt to cheer him up, to offer him advice. To try to make sure he enjoyed school more than I had. I let myself imagine what it would be like to do that on a daily basis. The idea appealed to me.
When I walk into the nook, it’s completely empty. The grease-stained pizza boxes and empty crisp packets scattered around suggest the writers were here till late last night though.
I troop to the kitchen to make a tea, and before I even walk in I hear Bishi and Nate’s voices floating through the doorway.
‘Jesus, I’m knackered,’ Nate is saying. ‘Do you want coffee?’
‘Yes, please,’ Bishi replies. ‘Have you sent the others home?’
‘Yeah. Told them to come in whenever they wake up this afternoon. I can always pitch to Kay on my own – the sketches are in a good place right now.’
‘Great.’
I’m about to step in and say hi when I hear Bishi say, ‘Since we’ve got a second alone, Nate – have you thought any more about this writers’ assistant thing?’
I hesitate outside the door.
‘Yeah . . .’ Nate says.
‘I mean, it’s got to be Nell, right?’ Bishi whispers. ‘She’s been constantly chipping in good stuff, and everyone here seems to like her. Not to mention her Kay DeBlue thing blowing up over the weekend.’
‘Mm-hm, yeah,’ I hear Nate say as he slurps his coffee.
I realise I’m actually grinning. Nell deserves this. So much. Way, way more than I do. I spent all yesterday trying and failing to write a comedy sketch – and then googling another career that genuinely appealed to me – but it’s only at this moment that I realise I really am done with this internship. I don’t even care about proving to Nick that I’m good enough any more. Screw what Nick thinks. The job is Nell’s – and that’s exactly how it should be. It makes my heart skip to think how happy she’ll be when they offer it to her.
‘The thing is, I was actually thinking we should offer it to Charlie.’
Nate’s voice wipes the grin straight off my face. I lean closer to the threshold to make sure I heard him right.
‘Charlie?’ Bishi says. ‘Seriously? After what happened with Max Ribiero?’
‘That was just a fuck-up. We all make mistakes. Charlie’s a good kid. And he’s a fast learner – he’ll pick stuff up.’
My heart is thumping as I lean closer to the door. What the hell is Nate talking about? I pray for the corridor to stay empty as long as possible so I can keep listening.
‘I just . . . Don’t you think Nell seems better suited to the role?’ Bishi sounds half confused, half pissed off. And rightly so. ‘Talia and Kerri told me that she’s constantly suggesting funny stuff in the meetings. And she knows the show backwards . . .’
‘There’s just something . . . off about Nell,’ Nate says. ‘I can’t explain it. She just doesn’t strike me as a . . . team player. You know?’
The fact that Bishi doesn’t answer seems to speak volumes. She clearly has no idea how to counter the torrent of bullshit coming out of Nate’s mouth.
‘Plus,’ he adds, ‘Nick Francombe will obviously appreciate it if we give Charlie a shot. And it’s no bad thing to have the boss on our side, is it?’
He laughs, and I feel a pulse of something between shame and anger run through me.
Bishi sighs. ‘Well . . . whoever gets the job, you’ll be the one working directly with them, I suppose. Ultimately, it’s your decision.’
‘Yeah, I need to give it some proper thought today.’ Nate takes another slurp of coffee. ‘Anyway, shall we get back?’
I spring away from the threshold and literally leap into the next room along. It turns out to be an office and, thank God, it’s empty. I hide out of sight as I hear Bishi and Nate making their way back down the corridor.
I wait inside for a moment, trying to process what I’ve just heard. Surely Nate wasn’t being serious? Anyone with half a brain cell can see that Nell is perfect for this job. What will I do if he actually offers it to me?
For some reason, the thought of it makes Mum pop into my head. I suddenly imagine how chuffed she’d be if I accepted. That was the whole point of this internship in the first place, after all – getting my foot on some kind of ladder.
But this isn’t my ladder. It’s Nell’s.
I head back into the nook to see Nate bashing away at his keyboard. He pulls an earbud out and says, ‘Morning, mate – sorry, just need to finish this last script before Kay comes in.’
‘No worries.’
He carries on typing as I switch on my computer and wait for Nell.
By the time Kay DeBlue gets to the office, at around 10.30 a.m., Talia is the only other writer who has shown up. She looks surprisingly sprightly for someone who’s clearly only had about three hours’ sleep. Her hair is a little wilder than usual, and she’s nursing four cups of coffee at once – but in general she seems on good form.
‘Here she is!’ Bishi chirps as she ushers Kay into the nook. I’ve seen Kay’s face on tons of posters all over London, but she’s a fair bit shorter than I imagined. It’s immediately clear that she is an absolute force of nature though. Her hair is peroxide blonde, bouncing in ringlets at her shoulders, and she’s wearing a pretty awesome Hawaiian-print dress and Dr. Martens.
She marches straight past Nate’s desk and up to Talia, which Nate looks mildly peeved about. ‘You’re Talia, right?’ Kay holds out her arms for a hug. ‘Shit, I’m such a fan of your stuff on the show!’
Talia’s jaw drops as she hugs her. ‘Seriously? I’ve been obsessed with your stand-up since I was sixteen. It’s so great to meet you.’
‘You too.’
‘How lovely!’ Bishi chimes. ‘And here’s another big fan of yours, Kay . . . I just popped her an email telling her you were here!’
We all turn to see Nell enter. For some reason, I stand up. Like I’m in a period drama, or something. What the hell is wrong with me? I think I see the ghost of a smile flicker across Nell’s lips as she catches my eye – but then all her attention is fully absorbed by Kay DeBlue.
‘Nell!’ Kay strides across the room and hugs her as if they’re old friends. ‘My viral interview buddy! We’re famous!’ She breaks out of the hug and grins at her. ‘I was so chuffed at how those clips turned out!’
‘Me too!’ Nell beams. She looks a bit overwhelmed by it all. Her cheeks are pink and she’s wearing the same blue-grey shirt she had on the first day we met. God, she looks good.
Bishi clears her throat. ‘Oh, and Kay – this is Nate, our head writer. And Charlie, our other intern.’
Kay nods at each of us. ‘All right, gents.’ Then she turns back to Nell and Talia. ‘I can’t wait to hear your ideas for this week.’
Nate is now looking more than mildly peeved. He coughs loudly and gives Kay a tight smile. ‘Tell you what, Kay, since you’re so keen to get cracking with these two – why don’t the three of you get started in the writers’ room? I’ll join you in a few minutes. Bishi and I need to have a word with Charlie here about something first. Right, Bish?’
Bishi glances at me. ‘Erm . . . yes.’
Nate gestures out into the corridor, towards Bishi’s desk. ‘Charlie? Time for a quick chat, mate?’