by Lucy Parker
A man she didn’t recognise paused by her side and nodded in the direction of the stand-off. “If the rumours of a merger are true, I don’t want to be in the building if those two end up competing for the same job.”
Freddy turned. “Are there rumours of a merger?”
“Oh, yeah. Buzzing’s getting louder.” The man grimaced. “Ever since that billionaire Lionel Grimes bought both networks, there’s been talk about the evening shows being streamlined. Which probably means that either this is a trial run to see how they do working together, or—” he lifted his brows significantly “—this is a direct comparison and somebody’s going to end up in the queue at the Jobcentre.”
“Well, shit.”
“Quite.” The man’s response was equally heartfelt. He nodded towards Sabrina, and Freddy’s stomach flipped with renewed nerves when she saw the assistant producer of Sabrina’s show beckoning. “I think that’s your summons. And don’t worry—if you get tongue-tied, we’re switching back to the studio after the interviews wrap up here, to finish with some human-interest fluff.” Her helpful confidante obviously worked for The Davenport Report. Nick’s show ran longer than Sunset Britain, so TDR would have an extra slot to fill once Nick finished the segment here with Sabrina. “Last I heard, the second story tonight is some dog that saved a kid from drowning. That’ll perk the public back up if this one’s a disaster,” he finished cheerfully and walked off.
After that encouragement, she felt even less confident about this, and her feet dragged as she walked over. Sadie and Maya were already standing with Sabrina, who had pointedly turned her back on Nick, with a toss of her red curls. He cast his eyes up towards the ceiling, every inch of his face lined with annoyance, and adjusted his crisp silk tie with a jerk.
“There’s no need to be nervous,” Sabrina was saying to Maya as Freddy approached. Her sister had a natural ease and charm with guests. Although Freddy got only an unreadable, narrowed glance. She had no idea what Sabs thought about the Henrietta situation, and her body language didn’t encourage a whispered query. The lingering words of their confrontation seemed to be spaced out between them like a physical barrier.
By a natural linking of thoughts, Freddy automatically scanned the room for Ferren. No sign. She hoped he was just lingering backstage until the last minute, waiting to make a staged entrance for maximum effect. And not passed out drunk in the green room.
He had precedent.
Dylan was reclining in a seat near the stage, one boot crossed over the other, waiting for his part of the pre-show hype. When he caught her eyes on him, he gave her a swift up-and-down, and winked.
“I’m not nervous,” Maya said, and immediately looked in danger of vomiting.
What the hell?
Yes, Maya struggled with shyness when she was out of character, and doing an interview as yourself was actually a very different ballgame from performing a live show, but—Seriously, if someone so much as sneezed unexpectedly right now, Elizabeth Bennet was going to do a very uncharacteristic swoon, and Sabrina and Nick would have to direct their questions around a body prone on the floor.
Freddy touched her arm. “Are you all right?” she asked in a low voice, and Maya shot her the oddest look.
It was a combination of shame, embarrassment, and apology.
“I’m really sorry,” she whispered. “I wish it had never happened.”
“You wish what had never happened?” Freddy was completely lost, but had to tear her attention back to the cameras when Sabrina and Nick finished their preparations and got into position.
Their backs straightened in unison and they both produced a wide smile of very white teeth. It was like someone had flicked a switch on the backs of Newscaster Barbie and Ken, and if Sabrina had heard that thought, the chance of Freddy being able to patch up their quarrel would sink to an optimistic one percent.
“It’s a truth universally acknowledged that everyone loves a good whodunit. Good evening,” Nick said, with that slick charm and hint of flirtation that made him popular with elderly ladies across the country, “and welcome to a very special episode of The Davenport Report—”
“And Sunset Britain.” Sabrina picked up the catch effortlessly. “Coming to you live from the grounds of Highbrook Wells in rural Surrey, where we’re joining forces in a network first.” For an instant, her green eyes locked with Nick’s brown. “For tonight only.” There was a subtle emphasis on the last words.
The corner of Nick’s mouth compressed as he turned easily towards the active camera. The crew moved around with silent, discreet precision. “We’re here at The Henry, Highbrook’s private theatre. It was built several decades ago for the playwright Henrietta Carlton, but is only now having its maiden voyage, so to speak. Final preparations are in full swing behind me for tonight’s debut performance of The Austen Playbook, the stage adaptation of the game that went viral across the UK last year. At eight thirty tonight, the curtain behind me will rise, and people at home will pick up their phones, ready to cast their vote on the outcome of the story that unfolds.”
“We have with us Elizabeth Bennet, Emma Woodhouse, and Lydia Bennet,” Sabrina managed to cut in smoothly, bringing the camera back to her. “Also known as Maya Dutta, Sadie Foster, and my baby sister, Freddy Carlton.”
Sabrina’s baby sister managed not to roll her eyes on live television.
“It must have been a unique experience, preparing for a play when even the cast don’t know which direction the plot will take?” Tactfully, Sabrina directed her first question at Sadie, giving Maya time to stop shaking. Out of view, Freddy squeezed her co-star’s elbow, trying to send silent support vibes.
“Fortunately, I enjoy a challenge,” Sadie said with a laugh, smoothing back one of the blond ringlets that were artfully arranged beneath her bonnet. “And I’m a massive Austen fan, so I leapt at the chance to be part of this adaptation.”
Surprisingly, since it was difficult to imagine her retracting her forked tongue and curling up with a good book, that was true. Freddy happened to know that Sadie had spent an absolute fortune on a piece of memorabilia that had come up for auction last year.
“Even if it’s not quite the Austen of the books,” Sadie added, with a targeted little grin to make herself seem approachable and down-to-earth. “Fewer balls in the assembly room, more bodies in the library.”
Nick turned towards Maya, who was darting anxious looks at Sadie. Freddy glanced between them, and added hastily, “It’s been a lot of fun to rehearse.” Bit of a stretch these past few days. “And we hope everyone at home will enjoy getting involved.”
“If you haven’t already downloaded the free studio app so you can vote during the performance, and have your say on who finds their true love and who ends up a corpse in the library,” Nick said, with a flash of teeth, “we’ll have instructions shortly.”
“An authority on true love, are you?” Sabrina was all purring sweetness, and his smile took on an edge.
“Oh, I don’t claim to be an expert.” He winked at the cameras. “But I’m working on it.”
Sabrina adjusted the lapel of her shirt. “I’m sure.”
Suddenly, Nick looked at Freddy. “It must be quite something for you, having the opportunity to perform in the location where your grandmother, Henrietta Carlton, wrote her most famous work, The Velvet Room?”
Freddy stiffened. Sabrina’s movements also momentarily hitched. She obviously hadn’t expected that turn in the conversation, either. Apparently not a pre-prepared question.
“Um,” Freddy said through a dry throat, her mind racing. “Yes. It is. I—”
“It’s such a beautiful little theatre,” Sabrina interjected, so efficiently it completely covered Freddy’s hesitation, “that it’s wonderful it’s finally getting the chance to shine. And with such a prominent cast.”
“Yes.” A flicker of annoyance crossed Ni
ck’s handsome face. “Major names in both theatre and television. And film. I believe even our home-grown action hero, Joe Ferren, is donning a pair of breeches tonight.”
The rhythm of Sabrina’s breathing changed audibly, and Freddy cleared her throat. “Yes.” It was her turn to step up with a diversion. Hastily, she produced the diplomatic answer that media training provided. “It’s always brilliant working with actors from different media. Everyone brings different skills and experience, and this is a great ensemble. Perfect cast chemistry.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Sadie move. The other woman drew herself up, and it was so exactly reminiscent of a snake uncoiling that Freddy could swear she heard a low rattling begin. Maya seemed to sense something as well, and went as rigid as Sabrina, and that sense of impending disaster became so thick in the air that Freddy found she was holding her breath.
“Yessss.” The human serpent drew out the word thoughtfully, her eyes fixed on Freddy, who stood tensely, waiting for the attack. When it came, it was a direct hit, but in an unexpected direction. “We have had excellent chemistry.” Sadie twinkled into the cameras. “You’ll definitely want to tune in tonight. We’ve had romance blooming onstage—and off.”
Maya’s arm jolted against Freddy.
After a short beat of apparent surprise, Nick raised his eyebrows. “Do we have a real-life love story developing backstage?”
“Things have definitely been heating up around here.” The innuendo was heavy. Sadie looped her arm companionably through Maya’s, who was shaking her head. “But you’d have to ask our Elizabeth whether she’s jumped from admiration to love yet.” She winked as she butchered Jane Austen’s words for her own bitchy purposes. “And whether matrimony is on the cards with our resident film star.”
In the silence that followed, Freddy saw Ferren standing near the stage, and the expression on his face said it all. Maya looked at him desperately, and then at Sabrina. She parted her lips but couldn’t seem to find any words.
Freddy’s guess had been half right. Maya had fallen into the trap of a co-star fling. But not with Dylan.
Apparently, she could cross “fidelity” off Ferren’s very short list of virtues.
Her stomach feeling hollow, Freddy saw comprehension come to Sabrina, and then what happened to her eyes. There was shock and fury, both of which she would expect from her fiery, passionate sister, but the emotion that drenched her expression was desolation. She seemed frozen, and had obviously completely forgotten about the rolling cameras and the job she was doing.
Nobody was moving. Even the crew had gone into stasis, some of them visibly confused, others latching on to the implication behind Sadie’s words and avoiding making eye contact.
When Ferren turned and strode from the room, running away from the consequences as usual, the cowardly, cheating bastard, Freddy heard the small squeak of his boot sole against the wooden floorboards.
It all happened in a matter of seconds, which felt like endless minutes.
While her mind was whirring rapidly, trying to think of something to say, anything, that would patch over the horrible moment and give Sabrina the chance to recover her composure, the cavalry arrived from an unprecedented source.
Dylan—lecherous, feckless prat, and their other resident film star since his successful move between the stage and the big screen—got to his feet and sauntered straight into the range of the cameras. With his characteristic one-sided grin, he looped an arm around Maya, who blinked, and said to Sadie, “Giving away our secrets, Miss Woodhouse? I suppose it’s to be expected, with the chronic matchmaker on the premises.” He nudged Maya back into motion, and she stared at him. Then from somewhere, she found her years of experience and produced a mostly believable smile.
Nick had been looking at Sabrina’s averted profile, a muscle jerking hard in his jaw, and his right hand had closed into a fist. But he recovered his professional gloss quickly. With just a shade too much jocularity, he made a comment about a real-life Elizabeth and Darcy, and Dylan tightened his arm around Maya and responded in kind. Beside them, Sadie was still looking quietly pleased with herself; despite Dylan’s surprising save, the damage was done.
Sabrina’s eyes, full of turmoil, met Freddy’s. Because of their age difference and their father’s behaviour, they’d never had the acute connection that some siblings did, an uncanny ability to communicate without words, but as she looked intently back at Sabrina, Freddy willed her to hang on, just get it together and get through the broadcast.
And she was so bloody proud of Sabs when she stood to her full height, cocked her hip, and smiled at Sadie. “You’re playing one of the more morally ambiguous heroines in Austen’s repertoire. A heroine, but also a character who causes a great deal of trouble and pain, in both the books and the script. How did you approach that dichotomy?”
After six more of the most uncomfortable minutes Freddy had ever experienced, Sabrina and Nick took the audience at home on a walking tour to see the sets, and visited backstage to give a carefully curated look at the last-minute preparations that went into a theatre production. It was basically like opening night at school, when everyone put up a show for prospective parents and pretended this state of calm, happy organisation was the status quo. The mess, the fractured tempers, and the panicking was going on in the dressing rooms, away from the cameras.
Freddy knew Sabrina well enough to see that she was going through the motions, and tonight was clearly desperate to be done with the job she loved, but to a casual onlooker, she might have got away with it.
Their segment wrapped up at half past seven, and the moment a cameraman held up his hand, signing them off and sending The Davenport Report to an ad break before it switched to the heroic puppy story, Sabrina dropped the fade-to-black smile and immediately shook off the hand that Nick placed on her arm.
“Sabrina,” he said urgently, and she answered tautly, without looking at him.
“Be a human being for once in your life, Davenport, and keep your gloating remarks to yourself.”
The skin around his eyes tightened, and Sabrina unhooked her microphone and headed towards the rear door where Ferren had scarpered. Nick seemed to hesitate for several long seconds of indecision, and then, face rigid, turned and strode outside. By the sound of it, the rain had stopped. At least the weather was turning out okay.
Freddy caught Sabrina up at the door.
“Sabrina—”
“Where is he?” Sabrina said between clenched teeth. Spots of red were burning through the skilful makeup on her face, which was pinched with tension and hurt.
“Probably hiding backstage until the last minute.” Freddy didn’t bother to hide the scorn in her voice.
Fucking, fucking Ferren. Thank God she had almost zero scenes with him tonight, because it would probably confuse the audience if Lydia Bennet suddenly extracted Mr. Knightley’s testicles with an embroidery needle.
“Right.” Sabrina pulled away from Freddy’s outstretched hand. “Not now, Freddy.” She vanished into the backstage corridor, the tap of her high heels a fast, furious echo.
Freddy turned, getting out of the way of the backstage crew, who had swung into quick efficiency, straightening the stands for the arrival of the in-house audience. In twenty minutes’ time, the doors opened to the invited public, which would be mostly VIPs, press, and family of the cast.
Breathing in deep, she closed her eyes for a minute or two. Hell. What a night, and the onstage performance hadn’t even begun yet.
Physically shaking out her arms, trying to get her bunched-up muscles moving, she took the steps up to the stage, and the young actress who was playing Harriet Smith rushed out from the wings.
“Yikes.” The girl pulled an exaggerated face. “I’d steer clear of the dressing rooms. Ferren and that TV presenter are having a hell of a row. She just threw a half-full milk bottle at his head.”
> “Shit.” Freddy shot forward. Sabrina wouldn’t thank her for interfering—and she really needed to have her usual final scan of her lines—but... She slipped into the wings and hurried backstage. Cast members were clustered in full costume along the walls of the hallways, avidly listening to the showdown, and exchanging meaningful, thrilled glances.
Turning the corner, Freddy came face-to-face with Maya.
“Oh God.” Maya swallowed several times. “God, I’m sorry. It just...happened, the other night. He’d walked off with one of the props, and the crew were so busy, I said I’d grab it from his room, and—” She closed her eyes. “I know he’s with your sister. And her face...” When her long lashes parted, they were wet with tears. “I can’t tell you how much I wish... He was really upset about something, and...he was just...”
“Ferren,” Freddy said. “He was just Ferren.” She wavered, then touched Maya’s arm. “Look, just try to keep it together, okay?” A spike of raised voices resounded through the walls. “And I’d stay away from Sabrina. In her case, the cliché about red hair and temper is totally justified.”
Looking miserable, Maya headed for the green room, and Freddy gathered up her nerve to enter the fray. If Sabs had started chucking the contents of the mini fridge around, things were escalating quickly.
“What a ruckus,” said a bored voice, and she turned sharply to see Sadie lounging in the doorway to the props room, examining her nails.
“Why the fuck did you do that? Are you trying to sabotage the performance?” There was no point in appealing to Sadie’s finer feelings where Sabrina’s and Maya’s emotions were concerned; she didn’t have any. She should, however, give a shit about her own production.
“Don’t be melodramatic,” Sadie said dismissively, straightening the lace neckline of her pink gown. “We’re all professionals—”
Freddy snorted.
“And if people have been behaving like very naughty boys and girls behind the scenes, I’m sure they have enough self-control to keep their hands off each other once the curtain rises. Besides—” Sadie pushed away from the doorframe. “It was quite entertaining.”
