Chapter 33
She was completely disorientated when the alarm went off. It was still pitch-dark and all she could remember was that she had to get moving. After a thirty-second shower, she gradually came to and was halfway through pulling on her clothes when her phone buzzed to say the taxi was at the door. It was 4.10 a.m. A flash of panic ran through her. Check everything: passport, money, phone, earphones, scripts. Anything else was replaceable.
Five minutes later she found herself and her little case pinned against the back seat of the taxi, speeding towards the airport in the pre-dawn light. She was conscious of the exhaustion dragging at her limbs, but adrenalin would have to substitute for her meagre hours of sleep. She glanced down at her outfit – scraggy jeans, runners, T-shirt – over which she’d thrown a lightweight trench coat which served in the early-morning chill but was liable to become roasting hot in the heatwave of central London.
Once at the airport and through to the departure gate, she’d settled herself into a corner of the café beside a plate-glass wall through which she gazed at the sun rising over a runway which shone with a pinky silver light. She’d ordered scrambled eggs and fresh orange juice, with the idea that high-protein, slow-release energy food was her wisest choice. Glancing around her, all she could see were dazed-looking people in business clothes sipping Starbucks and flicking on laptops. Along the walls lounged long-haul travellers in sandals and runners, with rucksacks or massive cases, making connecting flights, chugging energy drinks or the occasional pint of beer – good luck with that, she thought.
The big digital clock on the wall showed 5.37 a.m. Oh God, what if her flight was delayed or, even worse, cancelled? There were just so many stages where all of this could go horribly wrong. She needed everything to run like clockwork to arrive at the studios on time but, realistically, what were the chances of that? Panicked, she swung around, looking for someone official to ask, though nobody else seemed the least bit bothered. Just then she heard her flight being called and felt her body sag with relief.
Once settled into her seat on the flight, she felt like one of those children on a mechanical ride, frantically rocking, trying to make it work without putting any money in the slot. Again, nobody around her seemed overly fussed that they were running a few minutes late. Cassie, she told herself, you’re stressing, you’ll only burn yourself out. She put in her earphones, switched on her lines loop, and lay back in the seat and waited for the familiar feeling of taxiing down the runway, the pause, turn, the moment of held breath, and then the roar from the engines.
‘We’re up,’ cheered the lady in a pink flowery dress in the seat beside her to her husband, who looked slightly ill.
Hallelujah, they were on their way.
*?*?*
Heathrow was packed and sweltering.
Cassie elbowed her way to the front of the queue to get off the plane as politely she possibly could, without actually trampling over old ladies, and then made for the terminal, scuttling along, passing everyone on the travelator, excusing herself and trying not to run over their feet with the wheels of her case. Her watch was already showing ten past eight .?.?. Oh God, this was getting tight. How could time just vanish like this, when it looked on paper as though she should have oceans of it?
She sweated through passport control then burst through the sliding glass doors into the arrivals hall, oblivious to the bored-looking people standing around, holding name signs. She glanced around wildly and spotted the sign for taxis. Oh no, imagine if there was a massive queue or even a Tube strike? Could easily happen. Nightmare. What if she’d made it this far, only to be hit by one of an infinite number of obstacles? She rushed out the exit in a panic and almost wept with relief to see the row of trusty taxis lined up like well-trained black bears. She waved at the first one, who nodded to her. She climbed in, basking in that familiar sense of safety as the door slammed behind her.
‘Elstree Studios, please, how long should that take?’ she gabbled.
The cabbie brightened up at that. ‘’Bout forty-five minutes, give or take. You in a hurry, then?’
She burst out about her audition and how she absolutely had to make it in time for nine thirty. He pulled away steadily.
‘Should make that, no problem, barring accidents,’ he remarked sanguinely.
‘Don’t mention that word, please.’
She was aware of her hands leaving sweaty prints on the screen as she scrolled through the contacts on her phone.
‘Sunita?’
‘Darling, where are you?’
‘I’m in a taxi heading for Elstree.’
‘Fabulous, well done you.’
‘The only thing is, Sunita, the place is massive – how on earth am I going to find Wentworth Way ?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll phone through and let them know you’re on your way—’
‘Not a bother,’ volunteered the cabbie cheerfully. ‘I know where it is. I’m in and out of there all the time.’
‘Really?’ said Cassie. ‘And there was me, thinking I was the only person ever to have to find my way there.’
He laughed at this and suddenly it all made sense. There was a whole world going on around her and, no, she wasn’t the only person in it to have done this. Just calm down.
A few moments later, her phone buzzed. ‘Hi, this is Judy, I’m PA on Wentworth Way . Just head for the low office buildings beside the lot and I’ll be looking out for you.’
She felt a surge of gratitude towards this Judy, even though she didn’t know her from a hole in the wall.
Finally, they pulled up to the big gate, and in front of her was the original building with the words ‘Elstree Studios’ printed across it in massive letters. Her cabbie seemed to know exactly where he was going and to be enjoying pointing out the various sights to her.
‘That’s where the Big Brother house was, that’s the studio where they shot Star Wars .?.?.’ Cassie wasn’t capable of focusing on any of this, but nodded politely. He swung round a corner and pulled up to an unprepossessing office building outside of which a blonde girl in jeans, with a lanyard round her neck and a clipboard, was waiting. Judy. Oh. My. God. She’d one hundred per cent made it with exactly twenty-five minutes to spare. Judy welcomed her but seemed quite businesslike. As far as she was concerned, this was just an actor turning up for a reading, not a pioneer who’d toiled from the far reaches of the Earth, against all the odds, to reach the impossible dream.
She was shown into a smallish green room with a sofa and a TV, and for the first moment since her alarm had gone off that morning, she allowed herself a minute to exhale. A young runner stuck his head around the door. ‘Can I get you a coffee? Did you have far to come?’ he enquired breezily.
‘A coffee would be fabulous.’ She smiled with the sort of gratitude people normally reserve for emergency medical personnel.
She nipped to the loo, where she caught sight of herself in the mirror and realised with a shock that every screed of makeup she’d put on at home had worn off long ago and, in fact, her face looked as bald as a newborn gerbil. She reapplied eyeliner but kept her lip gloss minimal and mussed up her hair. All in all, she looked just about the right level of dishevelled.
Perched on the edge of the sofa, sipping her coffee and leafing through her scenes, she realised the lines felt familiar .?.?. really familiar, she actually knew them. She resolved to buy Ramona a fabulous gift on the way home for that golden tip. She replayed in her head what Philip had said, keep it simple , when Judy appeared at the door.
‘Would you like to come in now, Cassie?’
Her heart jolted but she deliberately took a breath and released it slowly as she followed behind the PA.
The audition room turned out to be an office with a grey space set up for filming. She picked up from their energy that they were in a hurry but allowed herself to let it go. That wasn’t her concern; meanwhile, the director, Alan, explained to her that they couldn’t use any of the sets because they were constantly being used for filming. It was a machine that never stopped needing to be fed, he said with a rueful laugh.
Polly, the casting director, explained that they were going to film four scenes with her.
They really didn’t seem overly concerned about what acting jobs she’d been doing lately; thankfully, they seemed overwhelmingly focused on what she could do right now. Alan smiled a businesslike smile and asked if she was ready to begin her audition. This was exactly the moment where, in the past, she’d always come unstuck. She’d be fine up to that point, but then, unbidden, nerves would attack from nowhere, she’d freeze and find herself overcome with self-consciousness. She’d have begun judging herself, running a self-critical inner monologue while trying to mind-read what the casting people were thinking about her. None of which resulted in a positive outcome. Ever.
This time she felt none of that. Something had changed. Between then and now, that fear seemed to have washed away. She felt free, calm and focused. All the stress of the journey melted away and she simply stepped into the character. She sensed her feelings intuitively, responding naturally and truthfully to her cues. After she finished, there was a long pause.
‘That was great. Thank you,’ said Alan with a look of relief.
She realised they needed her to be good, just as much as she did.
‘Thanks, Cassie, we’ll be in touch,’ said Polly warmly.
They all looked pleased, and even though the glances between them were unreadable, she didn’t focus on that. Again, that was their business, not hers. She shook hands with them and walked out the door into the blinding sunshine.
*?*?*
Cassie felt lighter than air as she towed her little case along the path, out past the historic studios, feeling free to fully notice them for the first time. She walked the fifteen minutes to Elstree and Borehamwood station in the glorious morning. It was only ten thirty and already she’d accomplished the impossible. She bought her ticket and found a bench beside a few older people waiting for the train to St Pancras, taking their time. She’d done her best, her absolute best. She hadn’t dried on her lines at any stage, which was a miracle in itself. She wasn’t kicking herself for going over the top or for holding back. Her phone buzzed.
‘Darling, how did it go?’
‘Great. It went great, actually, Sunita.’
‘Oh, well done .?.?. that was the one to get right, wasn’t it? Well, let’s wait and see.’
She could hear the genuine excitement in Sunita’s voice. ‘Let’s hope our Bea’s up there keeping an eye out for you. Bye, darling.’
What about Finn? she wondered, she felt the urge to text him .?.?. but he hadn’t texted to see how her audition went or to wish her luck. Of course, she remembered, he didn’t even know about it. So much had happened in the last few days. She’d been so busy, it hadn’t fully registered. That such a huge thing had happened in her life without him knowing seemed to open up a yawning gap between them. There was Time Before the break-up and Time After.
Settled on an inside seat, she leaned against the window and sank into a daze. The surge of adrenalin that’d carried her this far was starting to drain away, and for the first time since she’d arrived in London, she began to feel her own exhaustion. It was early, but already the day felt endless. She was moving into that speedy, jet-lagged state where she couldn’t trust her own judgement. The best thing she could possibly do was nothing.
Wait until she got to Josie’s, where she could reality-check everything, and in the meantime avoid any sudden moves that would screw up her life.