by T A Williams
Although there were no immediate openings for her in the art history department in Bristol, she had already applied to half a dozen other universities, where she hoped to find a lecturing position. She had also sent CVs to a number of museums and two big auction houses, in the hope that they might be looking for a medieval art expert, and she had an interview scheduled for the following week in London, which sounded promising. So, all in all, why get involved in the Hollywood madhouse again?
As Zoë had predicted, the change from internationally recognised star to ordinary student had been a bit of a shock to the system, particularly for the first couple of years as she settled down in Bristol, but she now genuinely thought of her Pals years as another life, almost as if belonging to somebody else. Back in the UK, she had found fulfilment in a subject that kept her intellectually satisfied and she had relished the far quieter lifestyle, a world away from the glitzy, frenetic world of showbiz and the even tougher world of social media, which she still avoided at all costs. It hadn’t taken too long before her fellow students and tutors had got used to seeing her around and accepted her as one of their own. She had gradually dropped out of the media spotlight and she hadn’t been bothered by a paparazzo for several years. She had got used to the freedom, so could she see herself diving back into all that again?
And, of course, there was the matter of David.
She had met him a couple of years ago and they had been living together now for almost a year. He was five years older than her, almost thirty-six, and he was the rising star among the staff of the drama department of the university. She had fallen for his intelligence, his slightly reserved manner, which had come as a welcome change after so many of the conceited men she had met, and his good looks. Things between them had been going… all right, but she knew that now she had finished her studies, crunch time was approaching. Now that she was free to take a job anywhere in the world, was she ready to take that big step and move away? And if she did, how would he react? If this new project of Pals Forever were to take off, would she be prepared to leave him and head back to the States? How might he feel about going with her?
And the big unknown was whether she would want him to.
She checked out the other two emails and found them remarkably similar in content. Benny was clearly amazed that he had been asked to participate again after the public falling-out he and Zoë had had on set, which had culminated in a lot of bad language on both sides and his being escorted off the lot by Security. Layla’s email was as flowery as ever, laced with ‘darlings’, ‘supers’ and ‘amazings’, and it consisted of two distinct strands. The first concentrated on the same question Benny had asked – was Alice interested in the idea of the new series? The second was the news that her marriage to Harry had ended in divorce three years earlier and she had ‘never felt better’ as a result.
As far as Layla’s failed marriage was concerned, Alice had already heard about it via Millie and hadn’t been surprised. She had lost track of the number of times she herself had been propositioned and even groped by Harry during the recording of the final series, so it had been patently clear that his eyes – and his hands – were increasingly wandering and his days alongside Layla numbered.
As for whether Alice felt like getting involved in the new series, the more she thought about it the main sticking point would be working with Zoë, the overbearing director, once more. The idea of going back to all that stress was far from appealing, although she had to admit that a return to the TV screen wasn’t without its attraction. Finally, still very much undecided, she called Millie back to get her take on the proposal. It came as no surprise to find her enthusiastic, to the point of ecstatic. The reason for her delight was easy to identify – she was broke again.
Millie, just like the character she played in the sitcom, was a bit scatty. Both in her love life – the list of her failed relationships would cover many pages – and in her career, she had a habit of making shockingly bad decisions. Full-frontal nudity three years ago in a weird Korean movie loosely based upon The Sound of Music, bizarrely set in the slums of Seoul, had been one of her poorer choices, but her decision to marry one of her Korean co-stars who spoke no English – and Millie spoke no Korean – had been even worse. The brief lifespan of the truly awful film before it sank without trace had been little longer than that of the doomed marriage.
Along with these poor decisions was a talent for spending and wasting money, and Millie appeared to be permanently insolvent, even though her share of the repeat royalties should have been more than enough to keep her afloat. Whatever the reason this time, it soon became clear she was desperate for this job or, indeed, any job.
‘I think it’s a simply wonderful idea, Al. It’ll be just like old times.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’
‘What do you mean? We had a lot of fun, didn’t we? And it would mean loads of money. We all know that the cast of Friends each got a million dollars an episode towards the end. That would be great, wouldn’t it?’
A million dollars an episode would indeed be great, although it was a forlorn hope. They had been well paid, but never anything like that amount and this would be a brand-new venture for the studio. But even if they were to be offered a whole heap of money, it couldn’t compensate for the sheer awfulness of working with Zoë again. When Alice mentioned this, Millie pointed out something that she had missed.
‘What if it isn’t Zoë? There’s no mention of her in the email. Maybe they’ve finally worked out she’s a witch and they’ve replaced her.’
Alice mulled it over for a few moments. It was true that a pleasant, sympathetic replacement for the irritable director would create a hell of a lot nicer working environment. Certainly, a twenty-episode series at even a fraction of the sort of money Millie was mentioning would provide a healthy income. And, give or take a few paparazzi and the serious constraints on her private life, she really had had a whale of a time in Hollywood.
‘I wonder…’ Of course, it would mean putting her art history career on hold, but there was no reason that couldn’t wait a year or two. ‘I’ll be honest with you, Millie: I’ve been sitting here remembering the stress of those last months on set, with Zoë screaming and shouting at everybody, and I’ve been dreading finding myself back in that situation again, but maybe it is worth a thought. What does your agent say?’
‘She’s all for it. After all, her cut would add up to a load of money. What about yours?’
‘I no longer have an agent. Students don’t need them. Apart from exchanging a few holiday greetings, I haven’t been in touch with Amos for ages. But I think I’d better give him a ring and see what he says.’
After speaking to Millie, Alice checked her watch to make sure it wasn’t too early in Hollywood and called her former agent. When she was put through to him, he greeted her with a cheery laugh.
‘Alice, honey, hi! I’ve been expecting your call. It’s great to hear from you after so long. You just beat me to it. I was about to call you. So, what do you intend to say to Conrad Chesterfield?’
So he already knew all about the plan to revive Pals. Not that this surprised Alice in the slightest. Amos had always had his finger firmly on the Hollywood pulse and his ear glued to the ground. Alice told him what she had discussed with Millie – in particular whether Zoë would be involved as director or not – and he came up with a sensible suggestion.
‘Why don’t I go back to them and say you might be interested, but you’re gonna need a hell of a lot more information first? Apart from anything else, we need to talk money, serious money. It probably needs a meeting – and a long one at that. How’re you fixed? Could you come back over here if required?’
Alice told him she had finished her doctorate and was currently free to travel. ‘I’m sure you’re right about a meeting being a good idea. Apart from anything else, we need to find out if the other cast members are also interested. What about Richie? I haven’t heard from him for ages and I hav
en’t heard anything from Harry for years.’
‘Harry’s still around. Since breaking up with Layla, I hear he’s been working his way through most of the pretty girls in Hollywood – and there’s a hell of a lot of them. As for Richie, I don’t know. He’s disappeared off the radar. I’ll do a bit of digging.’
Richie, the highbrow one of the group in the sitcom and Alice’s will-they-won’t-they on-screen – and for a few months off-screen – love interest had turned introspective towards the end, although he had never missed a day on set and had rarely fluffed his lines. The stress had got to him more than the others and, as a result, he had got himself a ‘spiritual counsellor’ as well as a variety of tattoos and piercings, and a permanent aroma of marijuana hung over him. Even so, he had become ever more morose and taciturn with everybody, including Alice, and his sense of humour had deserted him completely. Being with him had become ever more draining, until Alice had had enough and had finally been forced to call time on the relationship.
Since returning to the UK, she had lost contact with him and had feared the worst. She had enough experience of actors going off the rails under the influence of too much fame and too much money. It would be really interesting to find out how and where he was now. As for Harry, Amos’s description of how he was spending his time sounded par for the course. Still, she thought to herself, pretty girls, spiritual guides and illegal substances demand money, so both men might well be up for this new project. It would be interesting to find out.
And, of course, how this might impact her relationship with David was also going to be interesting.
When she got back to the flat, she found David there with five of his acolytes. Young drama students had always clustered around him like bees around a honeypot, and she had grown used to finding her living room taken over by the cast of whatever production he was working on at the time. Today was no exception and she groaned inwardly. Four girls and a boy were sprawled around the room, while David had fun holding court from her favourite armchair. As she came in, dripping with sweat, he glanced up and waved.
‘Alice, hi. Good run?’
There was the usual flutter of interest from the students at the sight of her once famous face, but she didn’t stop to chat. Instead, she headed straight for the shower to cool off. Refreshed, she changed into shorts and a T-shirt and went back to the living room to find David just ushering the last of his young disciples out of the door. He turned back towards Alice.
‘Feel better for your run?’
‘Much better, thanks.’ She went around, rearranging cushions and picking up the empty cans, wrappers and bottles that his groupies always managed to strew about the place. She almost complained but she knew by now that it would just be a waste of time, so she tried a different topic. ‘You should come running with me instead of staying indoors all the time.’ She knew this was a forlorn hope and she saw him grimace, as ever. ‘Anyway, David, something’s come up and I don’t know at this stage how it might impact my life… our lives.’
He disappeared into the kitchen to emerge a few seconds later with two cold beers from the fridge. He slumped back down into her favourite armchair and passed her a bottle.
‘Tell me all about it.’
Chapter 2
As Amos had indicated, a meeting with the representatives of the studio was arranged for early July. Although this was less than two weeks away, Alice said yes, particularly once she heard where it was to take place. To her surprise, it wasn’t to be in Hollywood, but in what looked like a secluded hotel in Tuscany, Italy, and it was to stretch over five days, presumably to test whether the various egos were going to be able to coexist in close proximity once more. As a venue, this suited Alice down to the ground.
For anybody with an interest in art, particularly medieval and Renaissance art, Tuscany was the epicentre. From Leonardo da Vinci to Michelangelo, from Botticelli to Donatello, this historic region in the heart of Italy had spawned some of the greatest names in the history of world art. The more she thought about it, the more appealing the idea of going there became.
She found David eager to join her – no doubt keen to experience a bit of Hollywood for himself – and they decided to stay on for a few weeks’ holiday in Tuscany after the meeting ended. This would serve two main purposes, as far as she was concerned: she would have the opportunity to visit the region more fully and seek out as many incomparable works of art as she could. Additionally, she and David would get three or four weeks together, uninterrupted, to see just where their relationship was going. She still liked him a lot and she felt confident she had even loved him at some point, but she sensed they had reached a crossroads, or a point of no return. She had been feeling for quite a few months now that they were just going through the motions and she sometimes felt herself slipping more into the role of housekeeper than lover. If things were on the slide now, what were the chances of them improving as the years went by? Some big decisions needed to be made about the two of them, as well as the direction of her future career. A bit of alone time amid the scenic beauty of Tuscany would give them the chance to talk, to think and to come to a decision – one way or the other.
* * *
The week after the bombshell email from Conrad Chesterfield, Alice took the train up to London for an interview with a big international auction house who were looking for an expert to work with the valuers in the Medieval and Renaissance art department. This had been arranged before Conrad Chesterfield’s email and, although the pay on offer didn’t compare with the kind of money she might be able to make with a return to her acting career, the job sounded fascinating and Alice arrived for the interview in good spirits. However, once again, her past threatened to get in the way.
Throughout the early years after her return to university, she had often had to struggle to be taken seriously, whether by fellow students, lecturers or potential boyfriends. The problem was that Pals had been a massive hit in the UK, as well as the USA, and she was a very recognisable face, but people often appeared unable to grasp the fact that she and Polly – the character she played – were not one and the same. Polly, her alter ego, had been a flirty and fairly superficial sort of girl, with a penchant for tarty clothing, and whose romantic exploits had occupied much of the five series. As she had lurched in and out of relationships with a never-ending succession of random men, including Richie, Polly had gained a reputation for being a bit loose, a bit of a good-time girl. Slipping out from her shadow had been hard for Alice.
In reality, she was very different from Polly the flirt. Her mother had brought her up to accept that she had had the good fortune to be born with a pretty face but to resist the temptation to believe that her appearance was all that counted. She had had a few relationships while working in the US, culminating in the ill-fated liaison with Richie, but none had lasted. Back in the UK, she had found herself, time and time again, having to come to terms with the fact that potential boyfriends were actually more interested in hooking up with Polly the good-time girl than Alice the postgraduate researcher, and this had destined each of these fledgling relationships to a hasty conclusion. Finally, she had met David and, in him she felt she had found somebody who was prepared to accept her as Alice, not the infamous Polly.
Today at the job interview, she soon realised her face and her fame were going to be working against her yet again.
She was interviewed in the formal boardroom of the long-established auction house, situated above the main salerooms overlooking the Thames. There was a hushed, solemn feel to the place and the oak-panelled walls were hung with oil paintings of austere moustachioed gentlemen – but not a single woman. She found herself sitting in front of a daunting panel of three: two men and a woman. The fact that the latter bore a passing resemblance to Zoë, the short-tempered director, did little to reduce Alice’s nerves.
The problems started almost immediately: the silver-haired chairman of the panel, whose surname was the same as the famous auction house, homed in
on her lack of previous experience in the field, and she explained that before completing her degree and doctorate she had been an actress. It was quite clear that this imposing elderly gentleman had never even heard of the show, let alone seen her in it, but the same could not be said about the two people flanking him. The woman was the first to pick up on it.
‘Just how serious are you about making a career in our company, Dr Butler? We’re looking for a professional, not a dilettante.’ There was definite disapproval in her voice.
Alice did her best to assure them that she was keen on this as her future profession, but she sensed considerable scepticism. The intense-looking younger man on the left then revealed that he not only knew who she was, but was also familiar with the show and with the vicissitudes of Polly the flirt.
‘We have to make it absolutely clear, Dr Butler, that there’s no place in this company for a flibbertigibbet.’
Alice stopped and stared. Although she was sitting in such austere and historic surroundings, she hadn’t been expecting equally ancient vocabulary. In fact, his choice of such an archaic word actually helped and she found herself smiling back at him.
‘I can assure you that I am no such thing. The fact that my previous career was in television doesn’t need to concern you, and you certainly shouldn’t make the mistake of believing that my on-screen character is who I am. That’s all in the past. My academic results and the comments of my referees should make it clear to you that I know how to work hard and I’m good at my subject.’ Drawing upon her years in Hollywood, she accompanied this retort with just the right amount of fire in the glare she gave him and was delighted to see his cheeks flush.
