Chapter 5
Months passed. Ellie’s season at Malthouse Theatre finished.
Auditions came and went. She filmed two episodes of a police procedural, her character quickly sacrificed to a serial killer.
She got a part in a new, edgy sitcom; she’d read for the lead but was selected instead to play the main character’s child’s weary schoolteacher.
Then, it happened: she was asked for — by name — directly requested to read for a significant supporting role in what was — for Australia — a very big budget movie.
Nicole Kidman was starring, of course, but Ellie had a shot at playing her troubled younger sister.
She wanted the role so badly her teeth hurt.
“I just got the schedule.” Jared’s voice down the phone was dire, announcing the news like a death. In a heartbeat, Ellie knew what was coming.
“No. Absolutely fucking not, Jared—”
“I’m sorry, hon. There’s no negotiating with a film schedule that size. They’ll be on location in Bali right when Universe Below has you booked.”
“Contact Fallen! Surely, they know by now whether they need me right then—”
“I tried already, Ellie Bellie.” Jared’s tone was sorrowful. “There’s no wriggle room. I’m sorry. The casting directors loved you. They said they’ll remember you for other roles. But the timetable is unworkable with your other commitments. This one’s just not meant to be.”
Ellie hung up, desperately despondent. And then, just like that the rage hit.
Who the hell did Jimmy Jenkins think he was?
Reserving her on a shelf like a goddamned library book, just in case, when her very career was on the line?
Surely if he understood what was at stake for her— surely he knew that his lead actor having a prominent role in a blockbuster would only benefit them, surely— Before she’d really even planned it out, she was in a cab on the way to King Street.
She stormed her way in through the glass doors, and across the vast marble floors of Fallen’s Melbourne inner city headquarters. Cool light spilled through huge floor to ceiling windows, but it did nothing to warm the place up.
“I’m here to see Jimmy— er, Mr. Jenkins,” she said to the receptionist at the vast gleaming front desk. The young woman’s head cocked to the side, her face impassive.
“Your name?”
“Eloise Silver,” she said sharply, her voice bouncing off the gleaming walls.
It was a bit much, honestly. She wasn’t a famous actor, but she’d been in tons of medium profile roles at least, and the receptionist at the production company responsible for her biggest television job to date didn’t even know her face? Was this a power play?
The young woman offered her an insincere smile as she made a pretence of rechecking the computer before her. She tucked back a lock of impossibly silky black hair and tapped her shiny nails against the keyboard.
“I’m sorry, Eloise, but I don’t have you in his diary. Perhaps—”
“Perhaps you could make an exception, considering I’m this close to tearing up my contract with Fallen, if they don’t stop messing with my career.
” Ellie’s voice had gotten louder. It wasn’t like her; she’d sworn never to be one of those wannabe divas embarrassing herself like this, but she did unfortunately have a fiery streak she tried to keep in check, though today she was apparently failing.
The receptionist stood up. Her voice got very soft and Ellie had to lean in to hear her.
“I would suggest not shouting about sensitive contractual information right here in the foyer,” she said, with a note of warning in her tone.
Ellie was about to argue her point when something about the young woman’s demeanour pulled her up short.
If acting school had taught her nothing else — outside of a high threshold for public humiliation and personal trauma overshares — she’d absolutely learned to study people’s micro-expressions. This woman looked afraid.
“I apologise,” Ellie said immediately. She didn’t think anyone working in the television industry would be fearful of a bossy actor raising their voice, but something had clearly unnerved this woman.
She found the name plaque on the desk. Lucia, Fallen Productions.
“Could you book me a meeting with him, please, Lucia? As a matter of urgency? I’ll wait. ”
Lucia remained on her feet. She considered Ellie for what felt like a long time, scanning her from head to toe. Her smooth brow was slightly furrowed.
“I would thoroughly recommend against having a meeting with Mr. Jenkins without a representative with you,” she said, enunciating her words carefully as if to imbue them with meaning.
Ellie considered her and thought of her agent.
Jared was a man who could be hard to reach when he wasn’t trying to reach you himself and Ellie most certainly wasn’t his only client.
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” she said easily. Lucia looked to be in her very early twenties, yet to gain the confidence that hitting your thirties gave you. Ellie tried not to sound patronising. “My agent is busy and I’m more than capable of—”
“Eloise.” The sudden strength in the young woman’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
“I would highly recommend you not meet with Mr. Jenkins alone.” Her eyes held Ellie’s with a sense of urgency.
“If your agent isn’t available, may I suggest a manager or another representative.
Make an appointment when that’s a possibility.
And even then, I’d suggest making sure it’s absolutely necessary. ”
Ellie stared back at her. Lucia didn’t move a muscle and Ellie wasn’t entirely sure if she was imagining the message being hinted here.
She opened her mouth to clarify, but Lucia jumped in fast. “Mr. Jenkins is a busy man,” she smoothed over, all darker intonations disappearing from her sunny tone.
“He’s very difficult to get face time with.
Please go through your agent to iron out any contract issues you may have. Good luck!”
Eloise was dismissed. Out on the pavement she felt beyond deflated. Was this really happening? Losing out on a life-changing film role, purely at the whim of a production company who refused to even meet with her?
An icy wind blew up the street, sneaking through her unzipped puffer jacket and freezing her from within, a faint haze of rain stinging her cheeks.
Melbourne in June could be a grim, grey place.
It was only the first month of winter, but sometimes winter could feel like it lasted all the way until November.
Halfway down Little Collins Street, a small cafe beckoned, warm golden lighting promising a shield from the miserable day.
She ducked indoors and ordered a flat white and an almond croissant, shrugging out of her jacket to take a seat near the window.
With a flash, she realised who it was she wanted to speak to, so desperately it felt like a craving.
She pulled out her phone and pressed call without second guessing herself.
“Well well well, if it isn’t Eloise Silver,” came the booming voice like a warm hug. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Hugo.” Something about hearing his familiar voice in that moment made her eyes flood with tears, even as she found herself smiling. “I’m sorry to bother you—”
“You’ve never been a bother in your entire life. Have I taught you nothing? Never apologise for your presence! Announce it!”
Ellie cleared her throat. “Hugo, darrrrling,” she infused her voice with a strength bordering on arrogance. A Toorak matriarch; a Fortune 500 CEO; Anna Wintour as played by Meryl Streep. “I need to run something by you. Please take a seat.”
Hugo laughed. No matter where in the world he was — holidaying in Tuscany, playing the lead on Broadway — his heartiness was like a log-fire, even when transmitted via phone tower. “That’s better. Now. Entertain me.”
Ellie did. She infused her story with passion: the losses low and the sparkling, just-out-of-reach prize sky-high.
In the retelling of her tale, she discovered the comedy in it as well as tragedy, finding herself able to laugh, after all, at her own missteps and misfortunes, and Hugo sighed along with her.
“What a travesty, Ms. Silver,” he pronounced when she was done. “What a terrible waste this all is.”
“I know!” The validation felt delicious. “The movie could have been a deal maker for me—”
“Not the movie!” Hugo dismissed her. “Not the silly little film, Eloise. I’m talking about you, wasting all this time and energy chasing some role that doesn’t belong to you, when you already have this: the gift of Estella Grant.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Let me get this straight. In eight months time — barely eight months, in fact — you may well be delving into your very first starring television role — a leading lady — playing the most fascinating woman on the planet, and you’re not throwing yourself heart and soul into preparing for it?
My word. If there was one thing I didn’t have on my bingo card for 2024, it was Eloise Silver falling short of my expectations for her. ”
Ellie went silent. Hugo might be prone to dramatic statements, but even the idea she might disappoint him stung.
It was Hugo Stafford — legend of Australian theatre — who’d given her a second chance after she’d failed in her first round of NIDA auditions, and admitted her to Australia’s top drama school.
He’d looked her in the eye — weedy, eighteen-year-old Ellie, with her misguided yellow-blonde highlights and cheap shoddy clothes, away from home for the first time in her life — and told her that she had something rare inside her she could access, but she had to promise not to take it for granted.
And from that moment on, she hadn’t. She’d decided that if Hugo saw something in her then it was there. Self-doubt be damned.
“But we don’t even know if the season is going ahead yet,” she said, her voice small.
“Rubbish,” Hugo declared. “Of course it is. Do you know how many thousands of actresses would cut your throat for a chance at that role? You’re lucky you haven’t been stabbed while sleeping!
Thankfully you proved yourself the first time around, Eloise, because what a devastating Estella you played!
Sex and death, temptation and defeat, murder and mayhem, oh my!
Now, tell me you didn’t love being her.”
A woman outside caught Ellie’s eye, marching down the street past the cafe.
She wore a bright red coat, picking her out amongst the usual sea of Melbourne city black, but otherwise her expression was shut down and grim.
She walked as though she was trying to fold in on herself, to get as small as possible to hide from the cold and the rain.
A slight limp betrayed how uncomfortable her tight shoes were at the tail end of a long, tedious work day.
Estella Grant would never walk like that. Ellie raised her head.
“I did love it,” she said. “She’s ferocious. She’s terrifying, actually. A woman like that just… eats the world and everything in her path, and that’s fucking rare, to find a role like that.”
“Isn’t it?” Hugo agreed. “It’s one thing to play a supporting role, and another to be a main character.
You can’t just skate by on this one, figuring things out when you get the script.
This isn’t just your big break, Eloise, it could be your role of a lifetime!
Award-winning! Unstoppable proof of your talent!
You cannot let this slide by like some kind of mere job.
You need to slip inside her. You need to inhabit her every dark thought. You must become her.”
“Oh my god,” Ellie breathed. Hugo was right.
Estella Grant was the ultimate main character, not just as a TV role, but in her own life.
Estella Grant wouldn’t be fobbed off by a mere receptionist; she’d kneecap Jimmy Jenkins himself if it suited her needs.
God, Ellie had a long way to go if she was going to convincingly portray that kind of energy.
“You’re right,” she decided, straightening her spine.
“I need to go and embrace the monster within. If I have one,” she added, with a self-deprecating laugh.
“Of course you do,” Hugo said, so severely that Ellie got chills.
“We’ve all got a monster inside us if the conditions are right.
But you can’t play a woman as a one-note.
You have to figure her out. Redeem her, make her human, make me love her and despise her.
Make me root for her, desire her and fear her.
And Eloise,” he added, right before he hung up for dramatic effect.
“For god’s sake. You’ve only got eight months. ”