Chapter Two #2
‘So,’ says Susan, putting coffee into the machine, ‘normally we’d just have the tone meeting today, where we go through this block of episodes and brainstorm potential changes, but because this is the first day with everyone working in the office and of course things are pretty hectic at the moment, we’re going to dig into the stories a bit more.
And Bernard will be there. He wouldn’t normally attend the tone but he’s making an exception this week because of, well, you know. Everything.’
‘Great,’ I say, though I’m starting to feel nervous about this meeting. This new regime really must be a big change for the entire Northside team.
‘Sounds good,’ says Art cheerfully.
To my relief, we’re the first to arrive in the meeting room.
I did not want to walk into a room full of potentially hostile strangers right now.
Susan indicates seats on one side of the long oval table and Art and I sit down while she takes a seat facing us.
She smiles at me as I take out my laptop and a notebook and pen.
‘Don’t look so nervous, Annie!’ she says. ‘I know it’ll be a challenge but you’ll be fine.’
My heart sinks. I was hoping my feelings didn’t show. I glance at Art, who doesn’t look nervous at all and instead is looking at me with a faintly amused expression on his face. This irritates me so much I stop feeling nervous and feel annoyed at him. Much better.
‘And besides,’ Susan goes on, ‘we’re all in the same boat because of the emergency schedule changes. Did Bernard ring you to discuss that or did you just get the email?’
‘What schedule changes?’ says Art, echoing my own thoughts, but before Susan can answer, the door opens and my new colleagues start to come in. I’m definitely not imagining the unfriendly expressions on some of their faces or the whispers they’re exchanging.
The room falls silent as a sixty-something man with white hair and an aggrieved expression stalks in carrying a pile of printed pages, followed by Gina. He takes a seat next to Susan and looks disapprovingly around the room.
Bernard.
Art stands up and extends his hand across the table. ‘Art Sullivan. Great to be here.’
Bernard ignores the hand. ‘We’ll have introductions in a minute.’
I actually feel sorry for Art as he sits down, though he doesn’t look particularly bothered by the dismissal. Around the table, a few of our new workmates exchange smiles and meaningful glances.
Oh dear.
‘Right,’ says Bernard. ‘As we all know, we’re totally in the shit at the moment.’
Are we? What is he talking about?
‘The fiftieth-anniversary episodes are airing in less than two months,’ says Bernard.
‘We’re shooting them in three weeks.’ He scowls across the table.
‘Which means you lot have three weeks to write the final drafts of the new scripts from scratch, thanks to those two arseholes whose names I won’t even mention. ’
I feel like I’d been walking down a flight of stairs and now I’ve missed a step. I look around the table and see that everyone looks very serious. No one looks confused. They all know what’s going on. Everyone does except me and—
‘Excuse me,’ says Art. ‘I don’t quite follow. What arseholes are you talking about? And why do you need new scripts for the anniversary episodes?’
Bernard throws him a look so ferocious I feel myself draw back into my seat. ‘Why? Why? Jesus Christ, did you even read that email before you started this job?’
‘What email?’ Art looks a lot calmer than I feel. It’s almost impressive.
‘The email Gina sent you last week, after she sent your first scene-by-scenes,’ says Bernard. ‘The email about the urgent schedule changes. Which I assumed you’d have bothered to read before you showed your face here.’
‘I didn’t get a second email,’ says Art. He turns to me and says, ‘Did you?’
‘Um, no,’ I say.
‘You were sent a second mail on Tuesday,’ says Gina tightly.
‘Well, I didn’t get one,’ says Art.
‘Neither did I.’ I may not like Art very much, but on principle I can’t leave him to tackle this on his own.
‘If Gina says she sent you an email,’ says Bernard, ‘you were sent an email.’
‘I’m afraid I didn’t get it,’ says Art. ‘I got one email last Monday with the documents for my episode. An episode that’s meant to be shooting in three months, not three weeks.’
‘Same here,’ I say, hoping my voice sounds steady.
‘There’s obviously been some sort of mix-up,’ says Susan, as if talking down a toddler who’s having a tantrum.
‘I’ll explain everything.’ She turns to me and Art.
‘Yes, you’re right, you and Annie were originally commissioned to write episodes that are being shot in August. But last week two of our actors, Paul Sheedy and Carol O’Connor—’
‘Thieving little bastards!’ hisses Bernard.
I know that Paul Sheedy and Carol O’Connor play Joe and Amanda, two of the show’s most popular characters, who are locked in a long-running will-they-won’t-they romance.
It turns out they would and they did.
Susan clears her throat. ‘It seems that Paul and Carol have become a couple off-screen too.’
‘We created a monster,’ mutters one of the writers.
‘Well, yes, it is an unfortunate case of life imitating art,’ says Susan. ‘And to cut a long story short, they’ve left their spouses and, um, emptied Carol and her husband’s joint bank account and … fled the country.’
I stare at Susan. ‘They’ve what?’
‘They’re on the run!’ cries Bernard. ‘Like a pair of common criminals! They’ve fucked off to Costa Rica a month before they were meant to be shooting the A-story in the fiftieth-anniversary episodes and that, people, is why we are in the shit!
As everyone here is well aware, apart from this pair who didn’t bother to check their fucking email! ’
I can see Art open his mouth, presumably to remind Bernard again that he didn’t get any mail, but he clearly thinks better of it and shuts it without saying anything.
‘So,’ Bernard continues, ‘as you’ve been told multiple times, you lot have three weeks to write the shooting scripts, and they’d better be good because these are the anniversary episodes we’re talking about.’
I feel a wave of nausea wash over me. Three weeks? For my first Northside script? I was expecting to have three months! That’s how long it usually takes to write the multiple drafts the job requires.
But Bernard hasn’t finished. ‘And you two,’ he points aggressively across the table at me and Art, ‘have the honour of writing the two episodes that will air on the anniversary itself.’
Hang on, what? They’re giving us the biggest episodes of the year?
‘What about … what about the writers who did the original scripts?’ I say. ‘Why aren’t they doing the rewrites?’
Bernard looks at me as if I were a rat that had somehow gained the power of speech.
‘Those writers,’ he says, ‘are currently unavailable. They won’t be joining the new “team”’ – you can hear the inverted commas around these words – ‘for now at least. So instead our little show gets to benefit from your international expertise.’
It’s exactly what he said to me on the phone when he offered me the job. Except now his tone is clearly sarcastic.
A cold shiver goes down my spine as it hits me that maybe he was being sarcastic on that phone call too.
Oh shit.
‘Actually, you might as well introduce yourselves,’ says Bernard. ‘Tell everyone here exactly who they’re lucky to be working with.’ He points at me. ‘You first, Ms whatever your name is.’
God, why does my mouth feel so dry? ‘I’m Annie McDermott.’
‘A bit louder, please!’ says Bernard. ‘And more articulate. Don’t mumble.’
Don’t glower at him, Annie. Don’t snap. This is your boss. This is the legend who shook up Northside.
‘I’m Annie McDermott and I’m from Drumcondra,’ I say loudly.
Too loud? Dial it down a bit. ‘Just down the road, hahaha!’ Oh God, that laugh sounded a bit manic.
‘I started in TV production in London and later I worked in the story rooms of a couple of programmes.’ I name them; everyone in the room apart from Susan and a short round-faced man wearing a fluffy cardigan looks resolutely bored.
‘I moved into writing scripts, and for the last few years I’ve been in Newcastle working on Our Toon.
Actually,’ I add with a smile, ‘I murdered Tony Barton.’
If I was expecting anyone to be impressed by this, I’m sorely mistaken.
‘Is that it?’ says Bernard.
‘Um, yes,’ I say.
‘Well, let’s hope you haven’t picked up any bad habits from those Geordies. What about you?’ He points at Art.
‘Hi, I’m Art Sullivan,’ says Art. ‘I grew up near the Royal Canal.’ I force myself not to roll my eyes. He’s implying he grew up on the mean streets, not a large townhouse. ‘And I went to school in the north inner city.’
Despite the fact that I’m still reeling from the deadline bombshell, I stifle a snort of appalled laughter.
I can’t help it. My friend Sinéad’s brother was Art’s best mate at school, so I know for a fact that he went to Belvedere.
Which, yes, is situated in the north inner city, but is also a prestigious Jesuit private school.
‘I got into college,’ continues Art, as if attending university had been a struggle against the odds as opposed to an automatic next step. ‘Then I went to Los Angeles for a while and worked in film and TV. And now I’m back home.’
‘Why are you back?’ says Bernard.
‘Personal reasons,’ says Art smoothly.
I’ve been so worried about all our new colleagues hating us that I haven’t had much time to ponder why the hell golden boy Art Sullivan is slumming it here with the likes of me.
Now I can’t help wondering what the personal reasons might be.
Whatever they are, this is a bit of a comedown for someone who was once so scornful of the entire medium.
‘How kind of you to grace us with your presence,’ says Bernard. ‘I hope it won’t seem too boring to you after LA.’ He says the last bit with cartoonish sarcasm.
‘I’m sure it won’t,’ says Art.
‘Good,’ says Bernard, ‘because you’d better read the new scene-by-scenes and story documents in about thirty seconds so we can get this meeting started properly. Gina, can you resend everything to these dilettantes?’
The new documents arrive in my inbox. I frantically scan them as Susan starts speaking.
‘As most of you know,’ she says, ‘the original anniversary-week episodes were centred on Amanda discovering that newcomer Louisa was her long-lost sister. Then just as Amanda turns to Joe for comfort and it looks like they’ll finally get together, we were going to reveal that Louisa had a baby with Joe ten years ago, conceived when he went on that work trip to Galway for a few months. ’
‘When Paul was in gambling rehab,’ someone mutters. ‘Again.’
‘We’d already cast the bloody sister,’ says Bernard mournfully.
‘Yes, well, we’ve found a way to work Louisa into the new stories,’ says Susan. ‘And because Amanda and Joe played key parts in the other stories in this block, all those storylines had to be totally reworked too, and the story team has done a fantastic job. So let’s show our appreciation.’
She starts clapping and everyone joins in apart from Bernard, Gina and a few very tired-looking people at the far end of the table, who nod modestly.
‘Right,’ says Bernard. ‘Now you’ve reminded us of what I thought you all knew already, let’s start this tone meeting. Or story meeting. Whatever the hell it is.’
Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be no fun at all.
And I’m right.