Under a Riviera Moon

Chapter 1

1

PRESENT DAY

‘On the floor in five, if that’s okay with you?’ Maggie addressed the young man in the make-up chair. He nodded without looking up, eyes fixed on the phone in his hand. Behind him, the make-up artist rolled her eyes dramatically. Maggie winked at her. ‘Great, see you out there.’

It was almost seven in the morning, and they were already behind schedule. Rehearsals were due to start any moment and so far, only one presenter had turned up. Maggie called for her assistant producer, a frighteningly confident twenty-something with perfect skin, hair, teeth and nails.

Maggie hoped the bronzer she’d applied before leaving the flat was going some way to reassuring people that she wasn’t in fact dead. ‘Any sign?’

The twenty-something shook her head. ‘I’m going to send one of the runners to the hotel. She’s not picking up and I can’t get hold of her agent either. You’re probably not going to like this but look…’

Maggie squinted at the phone screen being held in front of her to see a picture of the presenter in question coming out of a well-known London nightclub looking worse for wear. ‘Seriously?’ Maggie glanced at her watch. ‘We’re not live for another hour or so, we’ll just have to start rehearsals without her. Put her straight into the dressing room when she gets here and let me know as soon as she does.’

‘Got it.’

Sometimes Maggie felt more like a glorified babysitter than a TV producer, an award-winning one at that. Almost two decades in the business and even when she thought she’d seen it all, so-called ‘talent’ still managed to surprise her with their behaviour. ‘I’ll go and have a word with Max and give him the heads-up that he might be doing this one alone.’ Maggie made her way back to the make-up room, her best everything-is-under-control look firmly on her face. The one thing she didn’t want anyone to do was panic. Not yet anyway.

Twenty minutes later, the one presenter they had in the building was running through rehearsals for the low-budget Saturday morning children’s entertainment show Maggie had fallen into producing whilst in between other jobs. Creating rehearsed chaos on a weekly basis was exhausting and the frighteningly early starts really didn’t help matters. Sitting in the dark room in the gallery, the wall of screens in front of her capturing every angle of the action taking place on the studio floor, Maggie watched as the lone presenter went from camera to camera, reading the autocue and delivering every word perfectly. He might not be very likeable in real life, but Maggie had to admit this one was pretty good.

‘She’s here; I’ve put her straight into make-up.’

Maggie turned to see another runner at the door. ‘Thanks, I’ll be there in a minute. How is she?’

The runner grimaced.

‘That bad, huh?’ Maggie stood up, grabbed her coffee and made her way back across the studio to the make-up room. She knocked on the door, opening it slowly.

The chair swivelled round to reveal a young woman curled up in a camel-coloured velour tracksuit, sunglasses on her face, hair piled up on top of her head in a messy bun. ‘Hey, Mags.’ The woman’s voice was gravelly, her late night obviously having taken its toll.

‘Susie, what happened to you?’ Maggie turned the chair back round to face the mirror.

Susie took off her sunglasses. ‘Nothing!’ She tried to smile but her face crumpled and she started to cry.

Maggie turned to the make-up artist. ‘Can you give us a minute?’ she whispered. Once the door closed, Maggie stood behind the chair and looked at Susie in the mirror. ‘You know I can’t put you out there in this state.’ She spoke softly. Years of experience had taught her that the best way to handle this sort of situation was as calmly as possible. No matter what, there was a show to be made.

‘Maggie, please. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened last night. I swear I wasn’t even drinking.’ Susie spoke between sobs.

Maggie reached forward and pulled out a tissue from a box on the counter, passing it to her. ‘Listen, I know you love this job and you’re good at it. Very good, to be honest. But you can’t do it like this. So, I’m going to send you home now, say you’re not well. Next week you are going to be here and deliver the best show you’ve ever done. And you won’t ever do this again, agreed?’

The young woman nodded, her eyes falling to the sodden tissues she held in her hand.

‘Good. Now, go home, sleep it off and we’ll speak on Monday.’ Maggie squeezed her shoulder gently. ‘I’ll get someone to order you a cab.’

‘Thank you,’ whispered Susie. ‘It won’t happen again, I promise you.’

‘I know it won’t. Go, before anyone else sees you. And it might be a good idea to stay in tonight too.’

Susie nodded.

‘I’ve got to go.’ Maggie turned and left the room. Before she’d even closed the door, someone else was asking for her on the floor. She spoke into her headset. ‘There in a moment.’ By the time she got back in the studio, all hell had broken loose. People were standing on chairs and tables and the children who’d been sitting watching from the sofa when Maggie had last seen them were now screaming hysterically. ‘What’s going on?’ Maggie surveyed the scene.

Her assistant producer looked utterly panic-stricken. ‘One of the kids opened the cage backstage, the one with the pet rats in.’

Maggie instantly looked down at her feet, wondering why she’d agreed to the feature in the first place. She hated rats. She called for the floor manager, an unflappable man called Gary who’d been in the business even longer than she had. He soon appeared from behind the bank of cameras, brandishing a broom.

‘Where’s the guy in charge of the bloody things?’ Maggie continued scanning the floor for rodents.

‘He was outside having a fag, apparently,’ said Gary.

‘Right, get the kids out of here. We’ve got—’ Maggie glanced at her watch again ‘—about half an hour before we need the floor cleared.’

Gary nodded. ‘You know what they say, Maggie?’

‘If you say anything about children and animals, Gary, I swear to God…’

‘I wouldn’t dare. We’ll get it sorted.’

Maggie made her way back to the gallery, slipping into the darkness of the room. Out on the studio floor, people heard your every word, saw your every move. Not even a whisper went unnoticed. But in the gallery the madness was on the other side of a screen. Here, you could hide away from everything.

Sometimes it felt like she’d watched her own life from a gallery, seeing events unfold from afar. If only she could go back and give the younger Maggie direction, speaking gently into her ear. The problem was, younger Maggie wouldn’t have listened. She thought she knew it all back then. What was it they said about the arrogance of youth? At least you were full of optimism, fearless of what lay ahead. Now she’d been knocked about by life, had the tales to prove it. She looked at the monitors, watching the carnage. The urge to walk out was strong but Maggie knew she couldn’t leave everyone in the lurch. It was bad enough already and in any case the television world was a very small place. One bad job and your name was mud. She’d seen it happen to others and it wasn’t a pretty sight.

* * *

Somehow, they’d got through the morning and made it to the end of the live show without too many hitches; everything that could have gone wrong had done so in rehearsals. What’s more, the young presenter had really pulled it out of the bag managing to hold the show together without his usual co-host. Maggie thought about Susie, wondered if her earlier warning would sink in, but it was out of her hands now. She’d tried to skip the usual post-show drinks in the local pub round the corner from the studio, her early start having caught up with her. All she really wanted to do was head home to her flat, put on a tracksuit and curl up on the sofa with a good book for the afternoon. But Gary was having none of it, roping her in to join the rest of the crew ‘just for one drink’.

An hour and a half later and on her third gin and tonic, Maggie found herself sitting on a stool at one end of the bar listening to Lottie, one of the researchers on the show. She was pouring her heart out about her current dilemma involving her flatmate (who she clearly loved) and the flatmate’s boyfriend (who she clearly didn’t) and whether it was right or not to let a friend know if you didn’t like their partner.

‘I’d say it depends on how close you are,’ said Maggie, reaching for the open packet of crisps on the bar. ‘What you don’t want to do is say something uninvited. If she asks your opinion, then you should tell the truth. But otherwise, unless you think there’s something seriously wrong with them, it’s dangerous ground.’ Maggie took a sip of her drink.

‘Are you speaking from experience?’ The young woman looked at Maggie, raising an eyebrow as she did so.

‘At my age, everything is spoken from experience.’

‘How old are you?’

‘I’m forty next month.’

‘Oh.’

Maggie laughed. ‘You think that’s old?’

‘No, I just…’ Lottie shifted on her seat. ‘What’s your story, Maggie?’

‘What do you mean?’ Maggie was taken aback by her question. Astute, yes. But unexpectedly direct, especially from someone so much younger than her.

‘I mean just that. How long have we been doing this show together, three months? And I don’t know anything about you.’

‘Are you always this nosy?’ Maggie smiled, amused by Lottie’s approach.

‘What can I say? I’m a researcher. I was born nosy.’ Lottie shrugged her shoulders.

Maggie thought about it for a few seconds before speaking. There were two ways she could answer this question. The first was honestly. But that also meant going into details and she wasn’t ready to do that. She’d barely been able to process what had happened to her in the last few years, let alone talk to someone she didn’t really know about it. Reminding herself she now had a fair bit of gin in her system, she decided against that first option and instead, she went with the second. ‘There’s not much to tell, to be honest. Pretty standard, I’d say.’

‘How did you get into TV?’

‘By accident.’

Lottie laughed. ‘Definitely standard.’

‘I trained as a lawyer, actually.’

‘Really?’

Maggie looked a little embarrassed. ‘Yep, I know. I was all set for a life as a corporate lawyer; finished my training and everything. I started my first job and after about three months I knew I’d made a huge mistake. I just couldn’t spend the rest of my working life behind a desk arguing on someone else’s behalf. I had to do something else, but I didn’t have a clue what that was. I was waitressing to earn some money when an opportunity came up to help on a TV show. One of the other waiters had worked in production and asked if I’d be interested. I took it, desperate to do something. Twenty years later, here we are.’

‘And you’ve worked your way up to producing?’ Lottie’s eyes glistened.

Maggie nodded. ‘Took a while and I’ve done some terrible jobs in my time but yes, that’s essentially it. Persistence is key. That and a bit of luck, being in the right place at the right time. Now I can’t imagine doing anything else. How about you, what are you planning after this job?’

‘No idea.’ Lottie took a large gulp of her drink. ‘Don’t get me wrong, this is fun. But I want to be a writer. I’m working on my own stuff, hoping to put on a play next year.’

‘Really? What kind of play?’

‘Well, I haven’t written it yet. Work in progress, you know?’

Maggie looked at the young, clearly ambitious woman. For a moment she longed to swap places and be the one with her life ahead of her. The list of things she’d do differently was long. For a start, she wouldn’t have spent so many years trying to save her marriage.

‘Hey, are you okay?’

Maggie glanced up to see Lottie looking at her, her face concerned. ‘Oh, yes, Sorry. I was miles away.’

‘I think there’s more to your story than you’re letting on.’ Lottie lowered her voice.

Maggie nodded slowly. ‘There is. I’m just not ready to tell it yet.’ She put her hand on Lottie’s arm and squeezed it gently. ‘But thank you for asking.’ She quickly wiped at a tear that threatened to fall, then smiled back. ‘I think I’m going to get going, I’ve already stayed way longer than I meant to.’

‘You sure I can’t get you another?’

Maggie slipped off the stool and hooked her bag over her shoulder. ‘Thanks, but honestly, I can’t. I’ve got plans later so… see you next week?’

As she crossed the park on her way to the tube station, Maggie felt a rush of guilt. She didn’t have plans. In fact, it had been months since she’d socialised at all outside work. Not seeing people was just easier for now; no need to pretend she was fine.

The September sun shone brightly. People passed, chatting and laughing. Groups sat on the grass, the debris of their long-gone picnics around them. Everyone was seemingly still in summer mode as far as Maggie could tell. She tried to look on the upside of having an evening all to herself. She could have a long bath, read her book, watch anything she wanted, eat whatever she fancied. Maybe she should go and see an old film at the cinema? Like she used to with Jack…

Her old life, the one where she was married to someone she loved and who loved her right back. In a split second she was there, remembering the way he would look at her, telling her they could get through anything.

By the time Maggie got to her front door she was holding back tears, biting her lip hard to stop them falling. She got inside as fast as she could, not wanting to bump into any of her neighbours. Before walking up the stairs to her flat, she picked up the small pile of post that had been left for her, too distraught to notice the handwritten envelope on the top. Once inside, she shut the door, dropped her bag on the floor and went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. She opened the sash window and within seconds Tiger, her beloved cat, appeared on the windowsill, meowing loudly.

‘Oh, don’t give me that,’ said Maggie, stroking him under the chin. ‘You didn’t miss me at all.’ He began to purr as she tipped some of his food into a bowl and put it on the floor. ‘There you go, you dirty stop out.’ She watched as he weaved between her ankles before sniffing the food and turning his nose up. ‘You have to be kidding me, that stuff cost a small fortune.’ Tiger looked up at her disdainfully. She flicked the switch on the kettle, scanning the back gardens of her neighbours below as she waited for it to boil. Next door, a couple of children shrieked with delight as they bounced on a trampoline. On the other side, an elderly couple tended to their immaculate flowerbeds. Maggie had been in the flat for a few months and was yet to meet any of her neighbours properly. In their old house, she’d known the people on both sides well but here, everyone seemed to keep to themselves. Tiger nudged her arm, having jumped up onto the kitchen counter. Maggie looked at her cat, his head raised in expectation, eyes closed. She tickled him gently as the sound of water on a rolling boil filled the kitchen.

Taking her tea to the sofa, Maggie sat down, the pile of post in her lap. She discarded the flyers advertising various food delivery services and was left with a white envelope, her mother’s writing on the front. She loved the fact that despite modern technology, her mother wrote to her at least once a month with news from home. She opened the letter, reading it as she slowly sipped her tea. There were the usual updates: the weather, what had been happening on the farm. She turned the page to see her mother’s familiar signature. She thought of home, the old farmhouse she grew up in. She imagined her parents in the kitchen, sitting in their usual chairs at the kitchen table, a fire going in the grate. Suddenly she wanted to be back there.

Reaching for her phone, she typed out a message on the family WhatsApp she’d insisted on setting up, knowing her father would see it even if her mother didn’t.

I thought I might come back for a few days. Have you got any plans? x

She pressed send. A few moments later her phone pinged on the table. She picked it up and read the message on the screen.

We can’t wait to see you. Dad x

Maggie sighed. Yes, it was time to go home.