Chapter 12 #2
‘Well, considering how difficult you are to pin down at the moment…’ she says. ‘I thought I’d just double check.’
I try to avoid rolling my eyes. Because she’s referring to the fact that for the last few weeks I haven’t been able to have lunch with her, or see her beyond her visit to my hotel room last week when she brought by the dresses.
But I have planned everything down to a tee for this – I know I’ll be done with filming on that day by 6 p.m., and my plan is to travel straight to the venue so I’m there on time.
I’ve promised. It’s Alison’s party, her day. Of course I want to be there.
‘Al,’ I say. ‘I’m on a film set. I’m under contract—’
‘I’m just joking,’ she says. ‘Anyway, I saw those pictures of you at the Olivier Awards last night. You looked hot. That’s definitely not my dress, though. Aren’t you glad I made you go?’
‘Yes,’ I say vaguely. Because, honestly, my presence at that event might have caused more problems for me than it solved.
But Alison doesn’t need to know that. Despite the fact that a part of me wants to tell her all about me and Avi – to get it off my chest – I can’t be sure that she’ll understand.
‘I miss you,’ she says, out of nowhere. I smile, a warmth and a little surprise surging through me.
‘I miss you too, Ally,’ I say. ‘But you saw me just last week.’
‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘I know. It’s just… I feel like since you started doing this film you’ve disappeared. Even when we’re together, you’re not really there.’
I blink, not sure how to respond. Because that’s what it takes to make a film like this. I have to commit myself entirely. Especially given everything with Avi, though that thought makes me feel a little unwell.
‘Just…’ She pauses, her tone shifting a little. ‘Just make sure you don’t drown, okay? Make sure there’s still some room for Lara in there.’
‘I will,’ I promise. There’s something in her words that hits me harder than I think she intended. Because right now drowning does feel a little closer than I’d like it to. But not entirely because of the film.
‘Great,’ she says. ‘Love you. See you next week.’
‘See you then,’ I reply.
I put my phone away and try to focus, picking up the script in front of me, running my eyes over the lines one more time for my scene with Deborah.
I’m excited about it, the excitement bursting through even the confusion and anxiety I’ve been experiencing for the last few hours.
If I’m honest with myself, it’s been the day I was looking forward to the most out of filming.
Hardly allowing myself to even think about it for fear of psyching myself out and getting starstruck.
Because Deborah is one of the icons of 1990s and early 2000s cinema and theatre, in possession of an OBE for her contribution to British arts.
And a determination surges up through me as I read the lines again.
I need to be on my game. I can’t process any of my emotions about Avi right now. This has to come first.
And before I know it, David knocks on my door.
It’s time.
He marches me to the set. I do my best to keep up, but struggle in the heels I’m wearing.
‘Sorry,’ he says, looking back at me. ‘We’re in a rush today. We only have half an hour with Deborah.’
Half an hour? I think. Though I guess her appearance is essentially a cameo, a favour to Alessandro whose career she has staunchly supported for the last ten years.
En route to set, I almost run straight into Avi. Oh God, I think. Because it’s the first time I’ve seen him since our scene this morning. And I was half-hoping the weirdness I felt after our kiss was going to be a blip. But apparently, given the massive increase in my pulse, it wasn’t.
‘Hey,’ he says. ‘Good luck out there.’ Thankfully, David pulls me away before I can formulate a response. I just nod at Avi and allow myself to be dragged along. But when I turn around to look back, I find him still looking at me. An unreadable expression passing across his face.
I reach set and find Deborah there already waiting.
Seated in a wing-back armchair, a cane next to her that I presume she needs to walk.
They must have included it in the set as part of her character, for her convenience – it’s decorated wood and looks antique.
I wonder if she owns this one or whether it’s a prop.
‘Good morning,’ she says, a little dismissively.
My stomach sinks an inch because she’s looking at me like I’m a piece of dirt on the bottom of her shoe.
And I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.
Maybe she’s just tired, I think, hopeful that I’ll be able to prove myself to her in the scene, in any case.
Holding on to the fact that – even if she’s looking at me like I’m a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe – I’m still in the room with one of my idols.
We run through the lines a few times. The scene is a conversation between Amelia and her mother about the case and her arrangement with Jackson.
It eventually ends up with her mother telling her she’s a disappointment and Amelia telling her she doesn’t care – that she’s going to forge her own way, no matter the cost.
Deborah is commanding. Exciting. The whole room seeming to bend to her presence. It’s more than a little intimidating. But I do everything I can to keep up. Elevating my concentration. Keeping myself in the moment, in the scene. Shelving any thoughts about Avi firmly somewhere else.
‘That boy,’ she says, ‘has always been beneath you, Amelia. He gets you into trouble.’ Her character is dismissive – thinks little of Jackson because he’s American and comes from new money.
Wants Amelia to marry someone aristocratic.
‘You’d be better off associating with people of your own class.
Giving up all this silly investigation business he’s got you into. ’
‘The investigation was not Jackson’s idea,’ I say. ‘And he’s more than you think. More of a man than any of the idiots you’d have me marry, Mother.’
‘Oh, Amelia,’ she says. ‘What am I going to do with you?’
We run through the rest of the scene and I’m feeling good – great, even.
Like Deborah has me raising my game, higher even than I do with Avi.
Deborah is on fire and I feel like – by proximity to her blaze – I’m lighting up too.
Really getting a chance to show what I’m made of.
And then we’re done with rehearsal and moving into our first take.
‘Cut!’ Alessandro calls after our first run, rushing over to both of us.
Giving Deborah feedback, delivered as delicately as he can.
Telling me to give it some more oomph. And by the time Alessandro calls ‘Cut’ after what will hopefully be the final take – especially considering we only have five minutes left of Deborah’s time – I feel incredible.
Like there will definitely be some takes in there that are some of my best work.
I wait for Alessandro to approach and officially release us, deciding not to initiate conversation with Deborah again; after her reaction to me greeting her, she doesn’t seem to be one for small talk.
‘So,’ Deborah says, interrupting my reverie while Alessandro reviews the footage to make sure we can wrap in time. ‘How long have you been in the game for, dear?’
‘Oh,’ I say, both flattered and surprised that she’s talking to me. ‘Just a few years. But this is my first feature.’
‘Mm,’ she says, with a slight flick of her eyes.
‘Why do you ask?’ I say.
‘I mean, dear,’ she says, grasping her cane and getting up out of the chair she’s been sitting in. ‘That I can tell.’
I baulk for a second, so shocked by her blatant rudeness that I can’t formulate a response.
‘Don’t take it personally,’ she says, taking my silence as an invitation to further explain. ‘Some people have the je ne sais quoi to make it in this industry. The gumption. And some,’ she looks at me, dragging her gaze slowly down my form, ‘don’t.’ I swallow, my throat suddenly dry.
Before I can say anything else, Alessandro makes the call and she’s turned and started making her way across the set.
When I’m back in my trailer and ready to head to my hotel room, I find myself at a complete loss.
Turning Deborah’s words over in my mind, each one like a knife.
This is a woman whose poster was on the wall of my childhood bedroom.
Who I’ve watched, studied – old performances on YouTube, on stage, every single film she’s ever been in.
And so her negative opinion hurts more than I’d like it to. Hurts catastrophically, even.
But while I’m circling the edge of sinking into a complete depression, I hear Avi’s voice outside my trailer, talking to one of the runners. Before he can knock, I reach the door and open it.
‘Hey,’ he says, his voice soft. My stomach knots at the sight of him. I forgot we said we’d run lines. ‘Is this a bad time?’ he asks.
I contemplate saying yes. I’ve only momentarily distracted myself from my feelings about him with the disappointment of my scene with Deborah.
And right now both are threatening to crash through all at once.
But I don’t. Because something else surges up: a desire not to be alone.
I need a friend. And he’s about the closest thing I have, on-set, as alien as that thought feels.
‘Is everything okay?’ he asks quietly, stepping inside.
No, I think. And it’s not just because of Deborah.
It’s because the lines around him are blurring.
Because I feel awful about the fact that I almost kissed him.
Because something about that on-set kiss has unlocked a myriad of emotions I can’t even begin to deal with right now.
And I wouldn’t know how to deal with it if I tried.
‘I just finished my scene with Deborah,’ I say, because that – at least – is something I can share with him. His expression shifts immediately.
‘Ah,’ he says. ‘What did she say this time?’