‘I didn’t move anything around!’ retorts Lady Violet.
I have to confess. Go on, Becky. I force myself to step forward on to the edge of the set and clear my throat.
‘Um, excuse me?’ I say awkwardly. ‘It’s here. Sorry.’
I proffer my hand and everyone stares at the half-eaten, crumby cake. My cheeks are flaming with embarrassment, especially when a chunk falls on the floor. I quickly bend to get it, feeling worse than ever.
‘Shall I put it back on the table?’ I venture. ‘We could hide the eaten side …’
The girl in black raises her eyes to mine disbelievingly.
‘You ate a prop?’
‘I didn’t mean to!’ I say hurriedly. ‘I thought it was fake, and I was just biting it to prove it—’
‘I knew it wasn’t fake,’ puts in Suze. ‘I told her. I said, no fake cake could be that good—’
‘Yes it could!’ I object. ‘They have amazing modern technology.’
‘Not that amazing—’
‘Anyway.’ A thought suddenly occurs to me. ‘Maybe it’s a good thing. Because would they actually have that many cakes?’ I appeal to Ant. ‘Six is a lot for two people. You don’t want them to look greedy, do you? You don’t want the audience thinking, “No wonder Lady Violet needs a corset if she’s eating all these cakes—”’
‘Enough!’ Ant suddenly flips out. ‘Get these girls off my set!’ He glares at Don. ‘I don’t care who they are, they’re banned.’
Banned? Suze and I exchange shocked looks.
‘But we’re going to be extras!’ says Suze in dismay.
‘I’m really sorry we disturbed you,’ I say hastily. ‘I didn’t mean to eat the cake. I won’t eat anything else.’
‘Ant, listen a moment,’ Don says soothingly. He hurries over and starts murmuring in Ant’s ear.
I can see Ant shooting us baleful looks, but at last he puffs angrily and says, ‘Fine. Whatever. I need to get going.’
I’m holding my breath as Don returns to us and firmly ushers us away from the set.
‘Can we still be extras?’ demands Suze anxiously.
‘Of course!’ he says, smiling tensely. ‘No problem. Let’s just get you to Wardrobe and then … well. What I would recommend is that in the upcoming scene you take more of a backseat role.’
‘You mean, don’t talk to the director,’ says Suze. ‘And don’t eat the props.’
He nods. ‘That kind of thing.’
‘Hear that, Bex?’ Suze nudges me. ‘No scoffing the set.’
OK, I’m going to make amends. I’m going to be really quiet and unobtrusive on set. Or at least, as unobtrusive as I can be, bearing in mind I’m now in a curly red wig, blackened teeth, hoop skirt and a laced bodice which makes my boobs look … Well. Prominent would be one word. Ridiculous would be another.
My make-up was slapped on in about five seconds by a girl listening to an iPod, but still, I’m transformed! I look dirty, grimy, wrinkled and kind of scary. As for Suze, she looks like an old crone. She’s got a black matted wig and some kind of tooth plate which changes the shape of her mouth, and warts all over her hands. She’s walking around with a limp and, honestly, she looks just like a pirate. I’m not doing a limp, but I think I might do a little palsied shake in my hands. Or a twitch. Just a very subtle one.
We’ve been put in a side room and all the other extras are sitting around reading books and looking bored, but I’m roaming about, staying alert. The only slight downside is I haven’t yet managed to speak to anyone about job opportunities in Wardrobe. Renée Slattery is nowhere to be seen, and all the wardrobe staff are quite harassed. I asked a question about my petticoat length, and the girl in charge said, ‘Doesn’t matter. Next?’
Doesn’t matter? How can a petticoat not matter?
Then I asked her how she got into her job, and she said, ‘I was idiot enough to want to get up at five a.m. my whole life,’ which is not an answer, and shooshed me along.
‘Background actors!’ The second AD, Dino, is standing at the door. ‘Background actors to set, please!’
Ooh! That’s us!
As we file through the soundstage and on to the set, I feel a sizzle of excitement. It’s really happening! I’m going to be in a film! This set is far bigger than the last one and is the inside of a ship’s cabin. There are about ten extras, including me and Suze – all women – and according to a conversation I overheard just now, this is a really key, important scene.
A key, important scene! What if it becomes one of those really famous movie scenes that gets shown on the telly all the time and I’m in it! What if I get discovered! I feel a ridiculous flicker of hope. I mean, I know I’ve never really considered acting as a career, but what if I have the right face for film and I never realized it before?
I’m gripped by a vivid fantasy in which Ant suddenly stops the shooting and focuses the camera on me, and then turns to his assistant and says, simply, ‘My God. Look at her cheekbones.’
I mean, OK, I know it’s not that likely. But I do have quite good cheekbones, and everything’s different when you look at it through a camera and—
‘Bex!’ Suze prods me. ‘Dino’s calling you!’
I hurry over to Dino and look expectantly at him, hoping he might say something like, ‘I’d like to audition you for the small part of Pirate Princess.’
‘OK, you. Cake-eater girl.’ He looks up from a list.
Cake-eater girl?
‘I’m called Becky,’ I tell him.
‘Nice.’ He’s clearly not listening. ‘Now, I’m placing you where Ant can’t see you. We don’t want him wound up any further. You’ll be polishing Gwennie’s shoes with this rag, and you stay in this position the whole scene. Keep your face down, away from the camera. Got it? Away from the camera.’ He turns away, summoning the next girl and I stare at him, crestfallen.
Away from the camera? But no one will see me. What about my family? I want to wail. How will they know it’s me?
I feel totally crushed as I get into position, grovelling on the floor and clutching a manky old rag. This isn’t what I imagined at all. A girl who looks a bit like April Tremont has sat down on the chair and shoots me an uninterested glance. I guess she’s the stand-in.
‘People!’ Dino is clapping his hands. ‘A little background to the scene we’ll be playing. The pirates’ womenfolk are preparing for the marriage ceremony. Gwennie, played by April Tremont …’ There’s a burst of applause from some of the extras, and Dino smiles in acknowledgement. ‘Gwennie is being given to the pirate bandit, Eduardo, played by Curt Millson. However, she’s in love with the rival pirate Captain Arthur, aka captain of the Black Flag, and in this scene we’ll see this fact being discovered by Eduardo.’
‘Hi,’ I say miserably to the stand-in. ‘I have to polish your shoes.’
‘Fine.’ She lifts up her skirt and I rub her shoe dispiritedly.
‘OK, we’re going to rehearse!’ comes Dino’s voice. ‘Action!’
‘Marriage to Eduardo,’ says the stand-in, in a monotone. ‘Never while I’m alive.’ She takes out a scarf and fondles it. ‘Oh, Arthur.’
‘Background actors,’ instructs Dino. ‘I want you to look at the scarf. You’re interested in it.’
Obediently I crick my head to look at the scarf, but Dino immediately says, ‘Not you, cake-eater girl.’
Great. Everyone else gets to look at the scarf while I get to grovel on the floorboards. The door swings open with a creak and I hear the tramp of heavy boots.
‘What is that pretty thing?’ comes a deep, masculine voice. ‘Show me.’
‘Never!’ says the stand-in.
Then there’s some sort of tussle, but I can’t see because I don’t dare lift my head. This is so frustrating. I’m longing to see what it’s all about, but I can’t see a bloody thing, stuck down here. I’ll never get to do my twitch, let alone say, ‘’Tis true, cap’n.’ It’s so depressing.
‘Cut!’
I
sit back on my heels and wave at Suze, trying not to feel envious. It’s OK for her, she’s on a step, where everyone can see her. She’s even been given a proper prop – an old broken comb – and she’s combing her tangled hair with a theatrical flourish.
‘Excuse me.’ A mellifluous voice hits my ear, and a tiny button boot appears in front of my eyes. I look up and feel a jolt of awe. It’s April Tremont! Herself! She’s stepping into the chair, and lifting up her skirts so I can rub at her boots.
‘I guess you’re polishing these,’ she says with a nod. ‘Poor you.’
‘Oh it’s fine!’ I say at once. ‘It’s fun. You know. I love polishing boots. I mean, not just on film sets, I love polishing them at home, and in the garden and … er …’
Argh. Stop babbling, Becky.
‘I’m April,’ she says pleasantly.
Like I didn’t know that. Like she’s not really, really famous.
‘I’m Becky.’
‘You’re the one who ate the cake?’
‘It was a mistake,’ I say hastily.
‘That made me laugh.’ She smiles, that amazing smile which I’ve seen in loads of movies. Well, not loads of movies exactly. Two movies and one sitcom and an ad campaign for moisturizer. But still.
‘April. Curt. A word with you both?’ Ant is heading over this way and I hurriedly bury my face in April’s skirt, so he won’t notice me. Not that he seems to notice any of the extras, anyway.
‘I want some real violence in this scene,’ I hear him saying above my head. ‘Curt, when you see the insignia of your enemy on Gwennie’s scarf, everything changes. You know she’s in love with Arthur, and it infuriates you. Remember, this scene is the pivot; it’s what drives you to attack the Fleet of Foes; it’s what starts the whole chain of events. OK, guys? Passion. Intensity. Let’s go for a take.’
Despite everything I can’t help feeling a jolt of excitement. A take! We’re going for a take! It’s happening!
An hour later, I’m feeling a teeny bit less excited. We’ve done the scene over and over, and every time I have to keep my head down while all the action goes on above, and I’m getting achy knees from being in this position.
Plus, the more we do the scene, the less I understand it.
‘Are you OK?’ April Tremont smiles down from where she’s having her make-up touched up. ‘Pretty tough down there.’
‘Oh, it’s fine!’ I say at once. ‘Fine! Really fab!’
‘Enjoying the scene?’
‘Er …’ I hesitate. I know I should say, ‘Yes, it’s brilliant!’ But the truth is, I just can’t relate to it.
‘I don’t get it,’ I say at last. ‘But you’re really good,’ I add quickly.
‘Which part don’t you get?’ says April, looking interested.
‘Well, why are you playing with your scarf?’
‘It’s a memento from my lover, Arthur,’ explains April. ‘It has his distinctive insignia on it. See?’ She holds the scarf out so I can see.
‘I know that.’ I nod. ‘But you’re on Eduardo’s ship. He’s really violent and he hates Arthur. So wouldn’t you keep it hidden? If you really loved Arthur you’d protect him, surely.’
April Tremont stares at me silently for a few moments. ‘That’s a good point,’ she says. ‘Why am I playing with it?’
‘Maybe you’re supposed to be quite stupid?’ I suggest.
‘No!’ says April sharply. ‘I’m not. Ant!’ She raises her voice. ‘Ant, come over here!’
Oh God. I tuck my face down into her skirt and try to look as inconspicuous as possible.
‘Ant, I have a problem with my motivation,’ says April. ‘Why does Gwennie get out the scarf?’
I sneak a quick glance upwards – and Ant is staring at April as though suspecting a trick question.
‘We went through this already,’ he says. ‘It’s sentimental. She’s thinking of her lover.’
‘But why get the scarf out now, when it’s so dangerous? She’s on an enemy ship. Why would she be so foolhardy?’
There’s silence for a few moments, then Ant yells, ‘Dylan! Get over here. Please explain to April the motivation of her character.’
At once Dylan comes hurrying over, his sneakers squeaking on the floor of the soundstage.
‘Oh, OK,’ he says, sounding a bit nervous. ‘Well, Gwennie is thinking of her lover Arthur. She’s remembering the times they had together. So she gets out the scarf—’
‘Why?’ interrupts April.
‘To remember him by.’ Dylan sounds a bit flummoxed. ‘That’s her motivation.’
‘But she can remember him without a scarf. Why would she risk his life for the sake of a scarf?’
‘She’s a woman,’ says Dylan feebly. ‘She’s sentimental.’
‘She’s a woman?’ retorts April, sounding suddenly livid. ‘She’s a woman? That’s no kind of answer! Just because she’s a woman, it doesn’t mean she’s an imbecile! I’m not doing it,’ she says firmly. ‘I’m not taking out the scarf. Gwennie isn’t a moron. She wouldn’t do it.’
‘But you have to take out the scarf!’ says Dylan in consternation. ‘That’s the point of the scene!’
‘Well, you’ll have to find a different point for the scene.’
‘April, sweetie,’ says Ant, breathing hard. ‘You have to take out the scarf. If Eduardo doesn’t see the scarf, then he won’t launch the attack on the Fleet of Foes. That’s the whole second act. That’s the whole fucking movie.’
‘Well, it doesn’t make any sense,’ says April obstinately. ‘Becky’s right.’
‘Becky?’ Ant sounds at the end of his tether. ‘Who’s Becky?’
Reluctantly I raise my head from April’s skirts to see Ant staring at me with a thunderous disbelief.
‘Oh, hi,’ I say nervously, and risk a little smile. ‘Fab directing,’ I quickly add. ‘Really inspired.’
‘You again?’ says Dylan incredulously.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ Ant expostulates. ‘You’re derailing my movie!’ He almost looks like he might hit me.
‘No I’m not!’ I say in horror. ‘I mean – I didn’t mean to!’
‘You should be thanking her!’ says April. ‘The scene has a big hole in it and she’s the only one who noticed.’ She stands up. ‘Sort out your scene, gentlemen. I’ll be in my trailer. Gilly, Uggs?’
One of the wardrobe girls hurries forward and unlaces April’s button boots.
‘April!’ says Ant. ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
‘If you don’t pick it up, the critics will,’ she snaps. She steps into a pair of Uggs and strides across the soundstage. She’s leaving. Oh my God.
‘Come back here!’ says Ant furiously.
‘Fix the scene!’ she retorts over her shoulder.
I can see Ant and Dylan exchanging perturbed looks.
‘April, be reasonable.’ Ant hurries after her. ‘Look, we’ll discuss it.’
As I glance around, all the extras and crew are watching, riveted. What do we do now?
There’s a hurried confab going on between Dino and some other guy in a headset, then Dino strides towards the set.
‘OK, lunch. Lunch, everybody.’
At once, the extras all start to head off, and Suze bounds across the set to me, as fast as she can in her big skirt.
‘What did you do?’ she demands.
‘I didn’t do anything!’
‘Well, everyone’s blaming you.’
‘Really?’ I stare at her in dismay. ‘That is so unfair!’
‘No, they’re pleased. They might get overtime. Shall we go and get some lunch? They might have some more of that sushi. You know, I might become a full-time extra,’ she adds as we walk along. ‘I’ve learned such a lot. There’s a special agency you join, and there’s plenty of work if you have the right look. You can make good money!’
Good money? I want to point out to Suze that she already has good money, what with her husband being a squillionaire, only she looks so animated, I do
n’t like to.
‘And if you can ride a horse that counts as a special skill,’ she’s saying, when a fresh-faced girl hurries up to us.
‘Becky? Is one of you Becky?’
‘That’s me,’ I say, a bit nervously.
‘Miss Tremont would like to see you in her trailer.’
Suze and I look at each other, agog. A trailer! A proper movie star wants to see me in her trailer!
‘Can my friend come too?’ I say.
‘Sure. This way.’
I’m slightly disappointed in the trailer, to be honest. I was expecting it to be full of roses and champagne buckets and cards from the producers and maybe some signed photos from George Clooney, not just look like a mini-caravan with magazines and bottles of Evian and energy bars scattered around. April is on the phone as we enter, and I sit down cautiously on a bench-thing next to Suze.
I wouldn’t mind having a trailer, I find myself thinking idly. Imagine if, everywhere you went in life, there was a little trailer waiting for you to go and relax in whenever you felt like it.
Imagine taking a trailer shopping. God, yes! You could put all your bags in it, and have a little rest, and make yourself a cup of tea and—
‘Becky.’ April puts down her phone and smiles at me. ‘How are you?’
‘Er, fine!’ I say. ‘Thank you. This is my friend Suze.’
‘Hi, Suze.’ April bestows her radiant smile on Suze, then turns back to me. ‘I just wanted to make sure you were OK. I don’t want you getting any backlash from Ant. You have any trouble with him, you let me know.’
‘Thank you!’ I say, touched.
‘Well, I owe you.’ She sighs. ‘I should have picked up that issue at the read-through. Or someone should have. Those guys are idiots.’
‘What will they do now?’ I say, in slight trepidation. ‘Have I really derailed the whole movie?’
‘Sheesh, no!’ She laughs. ‘They’ll write another scene. They’ll fix it. That’s their job. But I’d like to do you a favour in return, if I can.’ She looks earnestly at me. ‘Do you have an agent? Do you need a better one? Would you like a contact? I know how tough it is out there, anything can help.’
‘Actually, I don’t have an agent,’ I start to explain. ‘This isn’t really what I do—’
Shopaholic to the Stars Page 19
