Chapter 7 #2
“I want to tell people that wine is about so much more than just the drink itself—it’s about culture, history, several hundred years of accumulated knowledge and refinement.
I want to touch on all of that. To talk about how the wine trade during the world wars was a part of the resistance movement, but was also something that the collaborators were involved in.
In many countries, viticulture and even individual vineyards have survived the plague, revolutions, war—and what if this particular bottle has a fantastic story to tell?
” Bente lifted her chin and looked her sister in the eye.
“And besides all of that, I love teaching people about wine. This is an amazing opportunity.”
“Do you want to teach people about wine, or appear on TV? Those are two completely different things,” Hanna pointed out.
Bente didn’t say anything, she just drank her tea.
“I don’t understand why you want to go back, why you want to be famous.”
“It’s not about being famous.”
Hanna’s expression betrayed her skepticism.
“It’s my life and my career and I’m thirty-five years old, so I can make my own decisions about what’s good for me.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about. The fact that you’re so desperately keen to get back to the world that fascinates you so much—at the expense of your well-being.”
With those words, Hanna went back inside.
Bente sank down on a chair on the balcony and finished her tea, considering everything her sister had said.
A week later, on the morning of the meeting, Bente’s phone buzzed with a message.
It was from Elnaz—was she going to postpone? Bente had sent her the sparse information she had managed to find about the bottle. Maybe Elnaz thought it wasn’t enough?
She opened the message with her heart pounding, but there’d been no need to feel anxious. Elnaz was simply wondering if they could hold the meeting at TV24. She had spoken to an executive producer there, and he was really interested.
Little flutters of joy replaced the sinking feeling in Bente’s stomach.
A meeting with TV24? It was usually necessary to get the production company on board first; the point of her meeting with Elnaz had been to pitch to the production company, who would then approach the TV stations.
Clearly Elnaz had already done half the job, which meant that Bente’s idea had taken a huge step forward.
On the way she cycled past Rendezvous. She had handed in her resignation the previous week, to which Tomas had replied that she had beaten him to the punch, implying that he had intended to sack her. She felt nothing but a huge sense of relief.
The low-lying sun was creating sparkling stripes across the roofs of ?stermalm as she pedaled up the last hill before Karlaplan.
She seemed to have endless energy this morning, and didn’t even need to stand up to manage the incline.
She continued along Karlav?gen, the only place in Stockholm that felt like a boulevard—this was where she got that Paris-feeling.
On to the TV24 building in G?rdet. As usual the wind was whipping across the large open space where residents gathered for recreational purposes.
In the distance the Kakn?s communications tower rose up into the clear blue sky.
Bente walked into reception, which had gotten a major facelift since she was last here.
The walls that had been painted in a shade of purplish blue were now covered in birch paneling.
The room seemed to be enveloped in light, and she was surrounded by shaggy rugs made of thick fabric and long linen curtains.
She sat down on the lead-gray sofa.
Before long Elnaz appeared in a doorway, wearing a visitor’s lanyard. She left the door ajar and beckoned Bente to her.
“So good to see you again,” she said, giving Bente a hug. “And I’m so pleased you got in touch with your idea.”
Bente smiled. “I’m glad you’re interested.” She slipped in through the door, which closed behind them.
Elnaz returned her smile as they continued along the corridor.
“I love your YouTube clips on wine—you’re a natural in front of the camera, and it’s great that TV24 seems keen on your idea.
Just a quick update: I met one of the producers for lunch the other week, and he loved the concept, so I thought we might as well bring TV24 on board right away.
He and I had a meeting about something else this morning, but we chatted briefly about you, and they’re definitely interested. ”
“Fantastic.” Bente did her best to suppress the excitement that was racing through her body; she wanted to be as professional as possible.
As they walked, they met several people who knew Bente; each one greeted her as if nothing had happened, as if she was here every week, and she felt herself grow taller with each encounter.
“How are things with you?” she asked Elnaz. “How’s life at Palento?”
“I think things are beginning to move—it was kind of slow at first. Your ex Henrik and his girlfriend are making a show about the newly renovated patisserie—you might remember there was a fire.”
“Yes, I heard about that. Such a shame—it was a really old business, wasn’t it?”
Elnaz nodded. “The oldest patisserie in V?stervik.”
“The new show sounds great.”
“Are you still in touch, you and Henrik?”
“Not anymore. But I’m glad his Christmas special went so well, and that he fell in love at the same time.”
The Christmas episode of Henrik’s regular show last year had been a great success.
It had aired in a prime-time slot, and the viewers had loved watching him fall in love with Nora, the patissier he was working with, in real time.
The whole thing had made Bente happy too.
He deserved every success. He was a good man, even if the love between them had perhaps never been strong enough to last.
“What did you think of his apology?” Elnaz asked.
Bente understood immediately what Elnaz was referring to. “It was . . .” She tried to choose her words carefully.
Years before, in the moment when everything collapsed around her, she had been completely alone in France.
A meeting with her French ex-boyfriend in connection with the recording of a show there had triggered rumors that she was cheating on Henrik.
She had protested her innocence, had assured Henrik over and over again that nothing had happened, but he had believed every word that was written.
After that, when the scandal over the unpaid restaurant bill broke, Henrik had remained silent.
He didn’t contact her or offer any support.
True, he had been absolutely certain that she had cheated, but she had been left totally isolated.
No one in the world of entertainment had been prepared to stand up for her.
Henrik had eventually posted an apology on Instagram, which was picked up by gossip magazines and online publications.
In it, he’d admitted that he should have defended Bente when things spiraled out of control.
He had also apologized personally in a long message to her, but it was the public apology that had been an attempt to make things right, even if it hadn’t actually changed her situation.
“It was what I needed,” she said eventually.
“Even if it was a bit late,” Elnaz commented.
“I expect he had his reasons.” Truthfully, Bente agreed with Elnaz, but now was not the moment to come across as someone who held a grudge.
Elnaz opened the door of the meeting room, where a man with a shaved head, and dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and blue jeans, was waiting. He stood up and gave a small smile, as if he was too stressed to smile properly, and held out his hand. “Don.” Short and to the point.
Bente had heard of him even though she’d never met him before.
She knew that the man’s name was actually Robert, but for some unknown reason he was called Don.
He had been working at another channel when Bente was with TV24, and had built his reputation producing scandalous docusoaps.
These days he made other kinds of shows, and had produced Henrik’s Christmas special together with Elnaz.
“Okay, let’s get started.” Bente sat down next to Don, and Bente took a seat opposite them.
She opened up her notebook to where she had written down the most important details; she hadn’t wanted to stare at a computer screen throughout the meeting.
She began by talking about the message she had received from her friend Camille, the bottle’s mysterious background, and everything she had found out about it.
She showed them pictures of the bottle on her phone.
They listened attentively.
“This is really exciting,” Don said, once Bente had finished and sat back. She let out a long breath. She had nailed it.
Elnaz looked at Don, nodded, and smiled. “This would suit Didrik, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely. It would be fantastic.”
“Didrik?” Bente didn’t understand.
“Yes, I mentioned the possibility to Don when we had lunch. We’ve both been in touch with Didrik Holgersson about working in a new format, and your idea is a perfect fit.”
Didrik Holgersson? Hang on, had Elnaz misunderstood? This was Bente’s show, a show about wine. She had come up with the concept—were they really planning to bring in someone else?
“I mean, of course you’d be involved,” Elnaz added quickly, as if she’d read Bente’s mind. “But we need someone else too.”
Someone else too.
“It would be interesting to have a stronger history angle, and someone for you to team up with,” Elnaz went on.
“Didrik Holgersson,” Don clarified, as if Bente hadn’t already gotten it.
They had clearly worked through their vision for the show.
Bente couldn’t help feeling blindsided, but then again, that was how things were in the television industry.
She knew that perfectly well. Sometimes a show was based on an idea by someone who was credited only in that capacity.
Bente had been naive to think she would just get her own show.
And Didrik Holgersson was famous. Really famous.
“You’re both around the same age, and he’s incredibly popular,” Elnaz said. “I think the two of you would be a great match, with his knowledge of history and your unique vision for the story.”
Bente tugged at her sweater. She had gone for a wool turtleneck with dark-blue stripes, worn with black slacks—formal, but relaxed enough for the meeting.
No one wore suits at the production company.
However, the top part of the sweater was beginning to feel like a brace, making it impossible for her to move her head.
She felt as if it was squeezing her throat, like she couldn’t breathe.
“So this is what I’m thinking.” Elnaz gazed up at the shiny brass-colored sphere of the ceiling lamp as she spoke.
“A format where the two of you discuss and kind of educate each other about your specialties while researching the history of the wine bottle at the same time.” She glanced at Don, seeking his approval.
“This would be something completely different for Didrik. He can still talk about history, but also ask questions and engage in a discussion. It’s a fresh concept for him—he’ll love it. ”
“Exactly.” Don nodded enthusiastically. “It’s a cool concept, and Didrik is super-popular. He’s personable, people love him, he’s good on TV, and he’s a hot property right now. If we can get him on board, then TV24 is in.”
Elnaz looked delighted. “He works hard, and he’s so nice. Very professional.”
Had Bente landed in the middle of some kind of in-person fangirl forum for Didrik Holgersson?
No one seemed remotely interested in her opinion on the matter.
She didn’t doubt for a second that Didrik was hardworking and nice, and no doubt fantastic in every possible way.
The many people who loved him couldn’t be wrong.
However, this push meant that Don and Elnaz thought the show needed someone as popular as Didrik in order for it to happen.
What were the implications of his involvement as it related to her role—both behind and in front of the camera?
Would she be totally overshadowed? She had already been sidelined in their discussions about the concept, and about how the show could be shaped to suit Didrik Holgersson, TV24’s star.
“And he speaks French!” Elnaz’s eyes were sparkling.
“So do I,” Bente pointed out. “My idea was to do this on my own, with a strong wine angle. I think it would be really good,” she added, managing to get a word in edgewise at last.
“If TV24 is going to run with this, we need someone like Didrik,” Don insisted. “Someone the viewers like.”
At least he was honest. Bente wasn’t enough. They needed a star to carry the show, otherwise Bente would not be appearing on it.
“But naturally you’d be credited as the creator and a producer.” Appeasing words from Elnaz. “It’s your concept, after all.”
Bente nodded, keeping her expression pensive.
Elnaz leaned forward. “And you will be in front of the camera, too, along with Didrik—it will be your joint show.”
Bente forced a smile. What could she say?
Besides, wasn’t it amazing that they wanted a star like Didrik on her program?
The fact that they wanted to buy it was incredible, but she still felt stupid and naive.
What had she imagined? That her own contribution would be sufficient?
She was a has-been, a nobody. Of course they needed someone that the public loved.
She had to face facts—she wasn’t going to pull in the viewers.
“We’ll send you a contract in a few days, and you send us everything you’ve got. Then we’ll get some of our researchers on the case to confirm whether we’ve got a real story. So we know if we’ve actually got a show.”
Elnaz’s tone was jocular, but Bente knew she was deadly serious.
No story?
No show.